The Dark of the Day (Fox Trap)
by CMPerry
Summary: A case takes the team out to Arizona where seven people have been murdered. All is going well until an unexpected turn of events leaves the team fighting for their lives. Trapped and scared, secrets are revealed that make the stakes even higher. [Best Team/Case Nominee for Profiler's Choice Awards 2015]
1. Prologue

**A/N To new readers, welcome. To old readers, welcome back. I'm really excited to share this updated and extended version of The Dark of the Day with you (with an all-new prologue) I really hope you enjoy.**

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><p>It was darker than usual as they drove along the flat, winding road towards their home in Green Valley. The sky stretched high above the flat expanse of the Arizona desert, and a few wispy clouds obscured the thin curve of the moon. Patches of stars were visible here and there, but it wasn't enough to cast any light onto the black plain. Their daughter was fast asleep in the back seat, her blonde curls hanging down over her face like a halo around her and her teddy bear, that was tucked up under her chin.<p>

His wife was dozing too, but roused herself occasionally if one of her favourite songs came on the radio, and she would sing along happily with the lyrics she knew, and invent her own for the parts she didn't.

They rounded the corner that usually brought the sprawling web of Green Valley in to view, but this time there was nothing to see except a few dim pinpricks of light scattered across the desert.

"Looks like the power's out," he said. His wife made a quiet mumble of agreement. A loud bang cracked through the quiet car, and the vehicle suddenly swerved violently, lurching across the the road. He grabbed tightly to the steering wheel as the back end of the car skidded out from under them, and the smell of hot rubber filled the air as he dragged it back under his control.

"What was that?" his wife asked, whipping around to check her daughter whose green eyes had snapped open at the noise.

"I think we blew a tire," he said, studying his rearview mirror to see what they might have hit. As the car slowed to a stop, he pulled it in to the side of the road.

"Daddy?"

"It's okay, sweetie, it's just some car trouble. Come on out and we'll get it fixed." His wife pulled a flashlight from under the seat and they stepped out of the car on to the road, their breath rising instantly in front of their faces, like ghostly apparitions in the bright torchlight. He guided his daughter to the edge of the road, one hand on her shoulder just in case a car should come around the blind corner, but the road was dark and silent.

His wife went around to the trunk of the car and pulled out the spare wheel and a car jack.

"What's mommy doing?"

"She's going to change the tire," he said, picking up his daughter and placing her on to his shoulders.

"Why aren't you doing it?" she asked, her little hands holding tightly to his head.

"Well first off you've got your hands over my eyes," he said. She giggled and shuffled her fingers up to his forehead. "And secondly, your mom is much better at it than I am."

His wife grinned at him, shining the flashlight in to his face. "You city boys don't know how to do anything," she said.

"That's why I married you."

As she set about removing the hub cap, he glanced up and down the black road. He thought he heard something, like something moving on the sandy ground, but a second later it was quiet again except for the insects chirping in the dry bushes, and the clatter of the hub cap hitting the ground.

"How's it going, baby?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. "You know, I could teach you how to do this."

"I'll pass," he said, with a little chuckle, but it didn't help dislodge the uneasy feeling in his chest, a feeling that there was something unseen lurking in the dark desert. He wished he hadn't thought it, because his daughter sensed his anxiety and grew tense on his shoulders.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she said.

"There's nothing to be scared of," he said, holding her legs a little tighter as they hung over his shoulders. He dipped down and opened the rear driver's side door, picking up her teddy bear and handing it to her. "We're nearly home. In fact, if the power wasn't out, I bet we could see our house from here."

"I want to go home now," she said. "It's really dark."

"I know," he said, glancing along the road again, as though expecting something to emerge at any second. Reflexively he moved closer to his wife, and to the white glow of the flashlight, and felt suddenly hypocritical for all those times he had told his little girl that there was no need for her to be afraid of the dark.

* * *

><p>He let out a long, tremulous sigh and slackened his white-knuckled grip on the wheel of his stationary car, hidden away at the side of the road. He saw the red of the brake lights, the orange of the blinker as the car pulled in to the side of the road, then the white of a flashlight as three shapes emerged from the vehicle.<p>

He watched them move to the side of the road, the mother going to the trunk, the father picking up the daughter. He could barely see, but he could tell she was smiling atop her father's shoulders, despite being stranded in the dark. She felt safe with her parents. An uninvited laugh rose in his throat but it was drowned swiftly by a surge of rage and his hands grew tight on the wheel once more.

He lay in wait as the mother jacked up the car. The father was growing uneasy. _Good, _he thought. He could just imagine the parents spewing platitudes and words of comfort at their daughter, as if they meant anything. They had no idea how easily they could be overpowered. No idea what danger lurked in the dark. They had each made into adulthood without anything terrible happening to them. They were growing cocky, smug that they had led such charmed lives, he could practically see the self-satisfaction pouring from their every complacent, middle-class pore. But he would put an end to that soon enough.

The moon appeared from behind a thin cloud, throwing the scene on the roadside in to silver shadows. He knew that he was hidden from them, but the moonlight allowed him to see the trio much clearer now. The woman began loosening the first wheel nut, a few strands of brown hair falling over her eyes. She was wearing bootcut jeans and a sweater with a fox on it. He smiled, it was all so perfect, he almost wanted to stay and watch the monochrome scene unfold.

_Now, _he thought as the mother struggled with the third nut on the burst tire. _It's time._ He turned the key in the ignition and the engine growled in to life, the wheels crunching across the ground, advancing on the family. His heart was thumping harder and harder with every meter and soon they were trapped in the glare of his headlights. They all turned to watch him approach. He parked the car, careful to avoid leaving tire-tracks in the soft dirt, and stepped out in to the dark. He slammed his car door, strode towards them, clenching his damp fists.

"Hi there," he said, meeting the father's curious gaze with a smile. "Car trouble?"


	2. Wheels Up

_People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within._ – Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

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><p>Aaron Hotchner sat at the conference table, surrounded by the rest of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, waiting for JJ to outline their new case. Morgan was absent-mindedly clicking his knuckles, Prentiss had her head in her hands with her dark hair hanging over her face. Dr Reid's eyes were vacant and heavy as he sipped his coffee and JJ stood at the head of the table, thumbing through the file with a frown creasing her eyebrows. He had rarely seen them look more exhausted.<p>

"Okay, Pima County, Arizona," JJ said once David Rossi had taken his seat. "There have been seven murders in the Green Valley area in the last four weeks."

"Seven?" Prentiss echoed, lifting her head to look at her friend. "And they're only inviting us in _now_?"

"Yeah. For the last four weeks a girl has gone missing every Saturday night but on Tuesday a family of three was taken from their car and killed; a mother, a father and their six year old daughter."

"Why weren't we called in sooner? One victim every Saturday night... it screams serial killer," Morgan said, his dark eyes showing the frustration that they all felt. "Half of these murders could have been prevented."

"The Unsub's burial site was only found a few hours ago," JJ said. "That revealed the bodies of all seven victims. There was no evidence that this was a serial killer until now."

"But four young women don't just vanish. Why did no one report them missing?" Prentiss asked.

"The first three girls were prostitutes with no family to speak of. No one even noticed they were gone. But the fourth girl _was_ reported missing; she was a Law student walking home from the library in the early evening on a main road. Her parents called the police when she didn't make it to her house. The cops found the rest of the bodies when they were out looking for her."

"So the Unsub went from high risk victims to a low risk victim and then to an entire family?" Rossi asked. JJ nodded.

"So he started out killing someone once a week," Prentiss said, "but now he only waited a few days and took multiple victims? This guy could be devolving."

"Or beginning to enjoy himself," Morgan muttered.

"What connects the murders?" Hotch asked. "The Unsub clearly doesn't have a type." The victims were both Hispanic and Caucasian; male and female.

"The victims don't appear to have any connection to each other, besides the fact they all live in Green Valley," JJ said.

She brought up the crime scene photos on the screen behind her. Seven bodies lay in badly made coffins in deep pits in the ground. All the victims were in separate graves except for the family, who were buried together. The mother still had her arms around her little girl, the girl in turn was clutching tightly to her teddy bear. The child's eyes were closed but the woman's were wide open, dull and glassy with an echo of fear still reflected in them. All six of them stared at the screen, and no one spoke. They had seen pictures like this before, but that didn't make it any easier.

"He seems to be choosing his victims randomly but his M.O. is always the same: he keeps them for almost a day and then buries them alive," JJ continued, dragging her eyes away from the dead family.

"Anything found at the crime scene?" asked Prentiss.

"Nothing at the first four, but he left a note on the family's abandoned car. It said _'Too slow, pig.'_"

"He's taunting the law enforcement," said Hotch. "And making sure they know there's a killer on the loose. He was probably getting impatient waiting for them to find his victims."

"And he seems smug, like he's proud of outsmarting the cops. We might have a narcissist on our hands here," Rossi said.

"What about prints?" asked Prentiss. "Anything on the bodies?"

"Absolutely nothing so far, he's very organised - " JJ was cut off by the sound of raised voices from the bullpen. There were heavy footsteps and the door flew open.

"JJ, I need to talk to you." Hotch turned to see JJ's husband, Will, standing in the doorway looking grim. Her face fell.

"I'm busy," she said.

"Now." JJ paused for a second before sitting her file down in front of her and skirting around the table.

"Excuse me," she said to the rest of the team, her cheeks flushing.

"Will, I am _working_," they heard her say before she shut the door behind her. The second the door closed, Morgan, Prentiss and Reid hurried to the conference room window and peered out at the tense couple who had moved in to the middle of the bullpen. Rossi caught Hotch's gaze and rolled his eyes at the agents all pressed against the glass like children who had just noticed it was snowing.

Hotch didn't make quite so much of a scene, but he also glanced out the window to watch JJ. Will was standing with his feet apart, voice raised, shoulders back; all the classic signs of an attempt at dominance. But Hotch felt a spark of admiration as he watched JJ fighting her corner. Although she was an inch or two shorter than Will, she had drawn herself up to her full height and was firmly returning his gaze even when he raised his voice, never once backing down.

Hotch stood and cleared his throat. "I think they would appreciate a little privacy."

The three younger profilers came slowly back to their seats exchanging half troubled, half curious looks, but before they could sit down, the door flew open again. This time it was Penelope Garcia, bursting in to the grey office in a flurry of pink and sparkles.

"I'm so sorry guys," she said. "I met Will out in the hall and I told him that you were busy and that he couldn't disturb you but he wouldn't listen! He was just yelling at me asking where JJ was and when I said I didn't know he said I was trying to keep him away from her and that this team has been turning against him for months and then he saw you guys through the window and I couldn't stop him I just feel terrible!" she finished, brandishing her bejewelled hands.

"It's not your fault, Pen," Prentiss said. "It seems like Will is a man on a mission, I don't think you could have stopped him."

"But I should have done something, oh gosh, JJ will be so embarrassed."

Morgan approached her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about this, Baby Girl."

"But I should have done something. I suck at being assertive."

"No you don't, you're assertive with me all the time," Morgan said.

"And me sometimes," said Prentiss.

"And me," Hotch said. Garcia gave an apologetic little smile and pushing her bright green glasses back up to the bridge of her nose.

"Now," he continued, "let's get back to work." Having been briefed on the case already, Hotch stood before the rest of his team and picked up where JJ had left off. Garcia scooted out the room before any crime scene photos appeared. All the while, he kept a close eye on the couple arguing in the middle of the bullpen.

"I can't believe you would come here," JJ said, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

"How else was I going to speak to you? Damn it, JJ, I feel like I don't see you anymore," Will said.

"You _don't _see me anymore, Will, that's the damn point."

"Well that isn't my fault," he said. "I'm not here to make amends. I get that you are punishing me, but you're making Henry suffer too."

"Don't you dare bring Henry in to this!" she said, clenching her trembling fists. She heard her own words ringing through the empty office, and lowered her voice. "Don't you dare suggest that I'm not a good mother to him."

"Well how to you expect to be a good mother when you are never around?" JJ took a step back from him, trying to control herself before she said something she would regret.

"I see him as often as I can, he knows why I'm not always around," she fought back angry tears, refusing to let her husband see her upset. "Don't try and guilt trip me, Will, I'm not the one with a reason to feel guilty!"

"I'm telling you, JJ, don't go on this case."

"You're telling me?" She gave an incredulous laugh. "You do not get to tell me what to do, you have no right, especially after - "

"Is everything okay here?" JJ turned to see that Hotch had appeared from nowhere and was standing by her side.

"Yes. Fine. I'll be right in," she said, watching Will with a steely gaze. "We're done here." A furious sneer appeared on Will's face as he looked at the BAU Unit Chief.

"Of course," he said. "The famous Aaron Hotchner swoops in to save the day yet again."

"Is there a problem?" Hotch asked, his voice low and level despite Will's remark. JJ looked from Will to Hotch as they stared each other down, Will's eyes burning with fury, Hotch's cool and calm. At last, Will cracked.

"Fine. You know what, JJ? Suit yourself. I'll just explain to Henry why his mommy isn't around to see him grow up. I'll see you when you get back, if you can make the effort."

She felt like he had just punched her in the stomach. He slammed the glass door on his way out and pounded the elevator button with his thumb. Only when the elevator doors slid shut did JJ allow her eyes at last to fill with furious tears.

"I don't need you to save me," she said, rounding on Hotch who was hovering protectively by her side, her temper still running high. "I can handle a domestic by myself."

"I wasn't coming to save you," he said. "I know you had it under control. I only came to make sure you didn't kill your husband. I'd rather not have a murder in the middle of my department; the paperwork would be a nightmare."

She looked up at him, still mortified, but he was watching her calmly with one eyebrow slightly raised.

"If you need any time off..."

"I don't," she said abruptly. She pulled her blonde hair in to a sleek ponytail and started to walk back towards the team. "Thank you, but I don't." He followed her on to the gangway, sticking his head in to the conference room where everyone, including Rossi, was now gathered by the window.

"We'll finish discussing the case on the jet. Wheels up in thirty."


	3. Green Valley, AZ

Green Valley, Arizona.

While the air was developing a definite chill back in Virginia, it was still warm in Pima County. The team stepped out of the shiny black SUVs that had been waiting for them at Continental Airport and in to the midday sun. Reid undid his top shirt button, Morgan took off his leather jacket and Prentiss rolled up the sleeves of her green sweater. Only Hotch remained formal with his suit jacket on and collar buttoned. A man limped out of the Sheriff's Department and approached the group.

"Sheriff Falconer," JJ said, extending her hand to the man in front of her. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone. These are SSAs Hotchner, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi and Dr Reid. Thank you for coming down from Tucson to meet us."

"Yeah, thanks for coming," the man said. He must have been pushing sixty with a distinct, shiny bald patch on the top of his head. "And as for coming down from Tucson, I don't see that I had much of a choice. This'll be making national news in the next few hours. Would look pretty bad if I wasn't here." He paused to shake his head, and take a deep breath. "I gotta tell you, I grew up in Green Valley, worked in this very building for most of my adult life before I moved up to Headquarters. Nearly four decades in this place, and I ain't never seen anything like this.

"Unfortunately, we have," Hotch said. The Sheriff limped off and the team followed him in to the mercifully cool building and through the unfamiliar bullpen. "I would like to send my agents out to look at the crime scenes, accompanied by some of your detectives if possible," Hotch added.

"They've already been over the crime scenes with a fine toothed comb," Sheriff Falconer said, and Hotch detected a little hostility in his voice before he sighed and continued. "But I guess a fresh set of eyes never hurt." He waved over two officers.

"This is Commander Holmes," he said, indicating the tall, dark haired cop who had approached them. "He's in charge of this district." He looked like he was in his early forties. He was wearing a white shirt with a grey tie and his eyebrows seemed to be creased in to a perpetual frown, he reminded Hotch a little of himself.

"And this is Deputy Commander Watts." Behind him, Hotch heard Morgan give a little cough. Watts was a little younger than Holmes, and was dressed in the same light brown uniform as the rest of the department. He had brown hair and green eyes, his countenance far more approachable than his superior's. He shook hands with each of the agents in turn while Holmes just gave a curt nod.

"They've cleared some space for you in there," the Sheriff said, leading them in to a little glass walled office. A large table sat in the middle of the room and a whiteboard covered most of one of the walls. The rest of the wall space that wasn't occupied by windows was painted the same light grey as the rest of the department. "I'll leave you to get settled. I've moved in to the office next door until we get this situation under control. So if you need anything you know where to find me," he finished, and backed out of the office. When the door clicked shut, Morgan turned to Prentiss who had her lips pressed tightly together, trying not to laugh.

"Holmes and Watts?" Morgan said. "Like Holmes and Watson?"

"If his first name is Sherlock, that will make my day," Rossi said, smiling.

There was a time when Hotch might have cracked a smile at the coincidental names of the officers, but his sense of humour had been shelved a while ago.

Rossi stifled a yawn and it spread like a disease around the room, a Mexican wave of yawns as everyone else covered their mouths or, in Morgan's case, just stretched his mouth widely and presented the room with a clear view of his tonsils. Everyone in the team was tired. They had only just returned from a five day case in New Hampshire when they got the call about Arizona. They all needed a break, but no one was showing the strain as much as JJ. He glanced over to her staring blankly out of the window, biting her nails. The usually serene agent had been out of character for weeks. Hotch moved around the table to put down his go-bag. As he passed JJ, he took her hand away from her mouth.

"Stop worrying," he said. Morgan's cell phone began to ring.

"Hey, Baby Girl, you're on speaker," he said.

"Oh, the more people who know about our undying love the better, my angel," said Garcia. Morgan smiled. He put the cell phone in the middle of the table so everyone could hear what information the technical analyst had collected for them.

"Now," she continued, "here's the lowdown. Green Valley, Arizona has a population of about 17,000. It's part of Pima County and is home to the Green Valley division of the Pima County Sheriff's Department, but you know that already because that is where you are standing, I would imagine. As a point of interest, Green Valley is home to one of the very few Rhenium mines in the U.S."

Her last statement was met by questioning looks from most of the agents.

"Rhenium is one of the rarest elements in the Earth's crust," Reid explained, as if it were common knowledge, "not to mention one of the most expensive at about four thousand five hundred and seventy five dollars per kilogram. It's used to make jet and rocket engines and even to treat liver cancer."

"I totally knew that," Garcia said, sounding a little put out that Reid had beaten her to the interesting information. "Now, Pima County has a fairly high crime rate in comparison to the rest of Arizona, although it is mostly property crime. Safe to say that seven murders in four weeks is kinda out of the ordinary for little ol' Pima."

"Thanks, Garcia," said Hotch.

"No problem, Hot Stuff." Hotch turned to stare at the phone and Morgan gave a snort of laughter.

"Oh my God, sir, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that, it's a force of habit, it's usually Morgan that... I mean, not that you aren't... you're lovely but that wasn't meant for you, I... oh God."

"Just hang up, Garcia," JJ said from her perch on the window ledge.

"Yeah. Okay. Bye. Oh God."

"Okay," Hotch said, still eyeing the phone with a frown. "I want everyone to split up and profile the crime scenes. There's every chance that we will see something that the local cops missed. Reid, I want you here with me to interview the families and work on the profile."

The team dispersed, Reid tucked his wavy hair behind his ears and started drawing up titles on the big whiteboard on the far side of the room. Outside, Hotch saw Prentiss approach Watts.

"Hey, can you take me to the family's abduction site? I'd like to go over it again."

"Sure, it's only couple miles from here," he said.

"Great." She turned and headed for the door. "The game's afoot Watson."

The Deputy Commander followed with a sigh. "It's Watts."

* * *

><p>Watts pulled up at the side of the road and got out of the car, and Prentiss followed suit. The sky was an endless pale blue, vanishing behind the Santa Rita Mountains to the east, and curving down to touch the Sierrita Mountains far in the west. The dark tarmac lay like a grey ribbon across the pale, sandy earth, seeming to weave its way through the sparse, green shrubbery that speckled the desert.<p>

"That's where the abandoned car was found," he said, pointing to a stretch of road that looked no different from the rest. Prentiss walked over to it, looking up and down the flat road, superimposing the crime scene photos on to the scene in front of her.

"So the car had a burst tire, and there was a spare wheel and jack on the ground?"

"Yup," said Watts. "But no sign of a struggle or any kind of resistance from the family."

"How would you get two physically fit adults and their child in to your vehicle without any kind of struggle?"

"Personally?"

"Sure."

"I'd hold the daughter at gunpoint, get the father to drive my car to a secondary location where I'd hold them hostage."

"Yeah, me too," Prentiss said, biting her lip and staring at the road as though she could see the abduction taking place while they stood. "The father wouldn't risk deliberately crashing the car or calling for help if his daughter had a gun to her head."

"And the mother probably wouldn't risk it either," Watts said. "They'd both be hoping they could escape when they arrived at their destination."

"You've thought a lot about this," Prentiss said, watching him talk through the crime, his green eyes narrowed in a frown.

"It's all I can think about," he admitted. "I've seen some pretty grizzly things, but I guess I was naïve enough to think I'd never see anything like this."

"Don't join the BAU, whatever you do," Prentiss said with a dry smile. "You'll lose all faith in humanity in your first week on the job."

"How do you do it?" he asked, looking at Prentiss and she was surprised to see genuine desperation in his eyes. "How do you sleep at night after seeing stuff like this?"

"You have to find a way to switch off when you go home at night. Talk about it, don't talk about it, make jokes about it if you have to, otherwise every case will eat you alive." Watts just nodded slowly. "And catching the bad guy always helps," she added, giving him an encouraging smile. "Now, stand there." She placed Watts where the family's car had been, and started walking up the road, away from the town. She found a shallow dip at the edge of the road and stepped in to the dry brush.

"Can you see me?" she called.

"No," he called back. Prentiss looked around and saw several small bushes crushed in to the sand, no doubt from the wheels of a large car, but as the Unsub knew well, the sandy ground wouldn't betray him by holding on to his tire tracks. She walked quickly back down the road towards Watts.

"If I was sitting in an SUV I could watch the passing cars from that ditch almost undetected," she said. "Especially in the dark."

"He must have put out tire spikes or something," Watts said. "There's no way a car blew a tire by chance while he was waiting."

"He might initially select his victims at random," Prentiss said, "but once he's chosen his target, he plans their abduction meticulously."

"But how do you catch someone who doesn't leave any evidence?" Watts sighed.

"We might not have any physical evidence," Prentiss said, "but everything about him, the victims he chooses, the way he abducts them and how he kills them, it's all evidence that can help us create a profile and eventually track him down."

Watts looked a little dubious. "You can really find a murderer from just his behaviour?"

"You'd be surprised at what we can do with next to no leads,"

"That's amazing," he said. Then he caught sight of Prentiss's expression and he groaned. "Don't say it. Just don't." But the opportunity was too good to miss.

"Elementary, my dear Watson," she said, with a grin. Watts shook his head and turned back to the car, but he couldn't prevent a reluctant smile from crossing his face.

"You want to drive up to Tucson and meet the medical examiner?" he asked. "It'll only take a couple hours. The M.E. has already sent his report to us, but I get the feeling you'll want to take a closer look for yourself."

"Sure," she said, "let me just grab my magnifying glass. And maybe my pipe."

"Would you give it a rest?" Watts asked, but this time he didn't even try to disguise his amusement.

"No," she said, glad that he was looking a little more cheerful. She had seen one too many officers run themselves in to the ground, haunted by cases that they couldn't get out of their minds. She didn't want the same thing to happen to Watts. She had only known him for a few hours, but he was quick man to get to know, and she found that she liked him already. But as they climbed back in to the cop car and pulled out on to the road, Watts's eyes darkened again as he stared at the abduction sight, and felt, with the kind of clarity that always burdens a good man, just how terrified the young family must have been.


	4. Wide Awake

When the team returned, night had fallen. The fall days were short and warm, but after the sun set the temperatures plummeted and by seven o'clock that evening, it was almost completely dark outside. They congregated in the back room and shared what little they had gleaned from their day.

JJ and Rossi had scoured the abduction sites of the first three victims.

"Okay, so the first three victims were all prostitutes which is why no one payed much attention to their disappearances," JJ said. "They each disappeared on a Saturday from around the same area, but no one claims to have seen anything out of the ordinary. The first victim, Carla Sanchez was seen getting in to a dark SUV the night she disappeared, but that was all the information we could get."

"The abduction sites of the the family and the Law student were spotless. There wasn't a single fingerprint or fibre and no one saw anything," Prentiss said, massaging the bridge of her nose as though she had a headache.

"There was no evidence at the burial site either," Morgan continued. "I mean absolutely nothing. The guy even covers up his footprints before he leaves. We've got nothing."

"Let's stop focussing on what we don't know then," said Hotch snappily, standing up to pace in front of the whiteboard. But he immediately regretted his tetchiness. He looked at his team and saw that they were as weary and exasperated as he felt, and he felt a familiar rush of gratitude for their loyalty and friendship, although he could never properly articulate his feelings to them. "Okay," he continued, more gently, "what _do_ we know?"

"The Unsub is probably a Green Valley resident; he's familiar with the area. He is organised, there was no sign of a struggle so he either knew his victims or he was charming enough that they didn't immediately suspect him," Rossi said, leaning back in his chair, one hand absent-mindedly stroking his goatee.

"He probably has a reasonably high I.Q. if he's able to pull off seven abductions and murders without leaving a trace," Reid said. "That takes patience and planning."

"Of the three family members who were taken from their car, only the father showed signs of assault. The mother and the little girl just had ligature marks," said Prentiss, who had spent the rest of the afternoon in the M.E.'s office with Deputy Commander Watts.

"Was there a sexual element to the father's assault?" Hotch asked.

"None."

"Well in that case he's clearly got unresolved anger with a father-figure in his life."

"So, why is he choosing to bury his victims alive?" Morgan asked.

"Maybe something similar happened to him when he was young," Prentiss said.

"Maybe. Or the knowledge that his victims are dying slowly is how he gets off," Rossi said.

"At any rate, this Unsub is accelerating rapidly, he can't maintain this level of organisation and control for long," Hotch said.

"So we have to wait for him to kill again and hope he messes up?" Morgan asked, sounding less than pleased with the notion.

Before Hotch could reply, the room went dark. In fact, as they would soon find out, the entire town did. Someone let out a high-pitched squeal. Hotch reached in to his inside jacket pocket for his flashlight and clicked it on. JJ had her hand on Rossi's arm, looking slightly alarmed, but it wasn't her who had let out the little noise of fright. Reid was hanging on to Prentiss's elbow looking like a startled deer. When Hotch shone the flashlight on him, he straightened up, trying to regain some form of dignity.

Prentiss smiled and patted the jumpy young doctor sympathetically on the shoulder and Morgan gave him a good natured shove.

"Scaredy-cat," he said, but abruptly stopped laughing when the door behind them creaked open loudly in the dark. Slow shuffling footsteps entered the room. A chair scraped across the floor.

Hotch's flashlight was quickly joined by three more as Morgan, JJ and Rossi also pointed theirs towards the door.

"Woah," said Sheriff Falconer, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. "Didn't mean to startle ya," he said, glancing over to Reid who was now standing slightly behind Morgan. "Seems like we've had a bit of a power outage. They're getting pretty common round these parts. We probably won't have the power back 'til morning so you might want to take an early night."

Morgan groaned his disapproval. "We have an Unsub who could kill three, four, maybe five people in the next thirty-six hours and we're just going to go to our hotel?"

"You must have a generator," Prentiss said.

"They're waiting to get it repaired," Falconer mumbled.

"I'll bet," Prentiss said, drily. Falconer shot her a distasteful look that made Hotch take an immediate dislike to him.

"We're staying here, Sheriff," Hotch said.

"Sure, you do whatever you gotta do," he said. "I'm heading back to Tucson but I'll be back in the morning. My Chief Deputy went and died of a heart attack last week so I need to organise a replacement before the Governor goes out of his mind. Can't get any damn police work done these days without bureaucracy getting in the way - " he stopped himself when he realised he was rambling. "I'll get one of the officers to find you some lamps," he said, a little more composedly. "I tell you, there's gonna be a lot of happy miners tonight."

"Why is that?" Rossi asked. The Sheriff stopped on his way out to answer.

"They don't need to work when there's no power. No point in them mining for something they can't see."

Hotch held his flashlight high and moved round the table in the middle of the room. He sat down, pulling his notes towards him and was joined a few seconds later by the rest of the team. No one was prepared to let a power outage stop them from catching this Unsub. The continued discussing what they knew, and speculating on what they didn't. But several hours and several cups of cold coffee later, they had to call it a night. By dim, battery-powered lamplight they had managed to scrape together a preliminary profile, but it wasn't much to go on. All they could do now was get some rest and pray that the Unsub didn't kill again before the morning.

* * *

><p>The team arrived their allocated hotel, the Green Valley Inn, a big sand-coloured building with palm trees in a neat row outside. Each tree was lit from the bottom by a small spotlight, painting a regular pattern of light and shadow across the black ground. Hotch was pleased to see that there were more lights on inside the hotel, albeit dim ones. While everyone else climbed from the car and collected their bags, Hotch glanced up at the cloudless and cold night. The sky was a uniform deep blue and he was surprised by how many more stars appeared when there was no light pollution from the streets and homes of Green Valley. Some of the stars were bright and clear but others were soft and flickering and only visible when you didn't look too hard.<p>

They walked up the paved courtyard and in through the glass doors. It was pleasantly warm in the lobby after several hours of sitting in the Sheriff's Office where a biting desert chill had started to creep in.

Hotch waited with the rest of the team who were congregating around the couches in the lobby while Rossi headed to the reception desk to check them in. The reception area was small and homely with red patterned carpets and dark wood furniture. After putting down their go-bags, they were approached almost immediately by a woman in her mid-thirties with short brown hair, dressed in a navy blue skirt suit.

"Hi, welcome to Best Western Green Valley Inn," she said, shaking Hotch's hand vigorously and for much longer than necessary as she beamed around at the rest of them. "It is an absolute pleasure to have you. We apologise for the power outage, but thankfully we have a backup generator which means that you can still make full use of the showers and the heated pool and there are emergency lights all over the hotel so you can see where you are going!" She was speaking very fast, apparently thrilled at the idea of having real FBI agents in her hotel.

"Since it is almost golfing season I'm afraid we are a little busy; we only have double rooms available so you'll have to pair up. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's not a problem," said Hotch. "As long as we have somewhere to sleep, we don't mind." She gave him another wide smile before walking over to the reception to join her colleague. It wasn't the first time they had had to share rooms, nor would it be the last. For Hotch, at least, it was never much of an inconvenience, but almost as soon as the woman was out of earshot, there was an eruption of bickering.

"I'm not sharing with Rossi," said Reid quickly.

"That's not fair, man, I was with him last time," said Morgan.

"Well I'm not sharing with him, that's just weird," said Prentiss.

"Aw, take one for the team, Emily," Morgan said.

"No! I'm not sharing a room with him," she said.

"What's the problem?" Hotch asked, confused as to why sharing with Rossi was such an issue.

"Haven't you even shared a room with Rossi?" JJ asked.

"Not for a long time," he said. "Why?"

"Rossi snores," she explained.

"Really badly," added Morgan. "The last time we shared a room, I was ready to suffocate him. Anything to make the noises stop." Reid nodded earnestly in agreement.

"Well, Emily and I should share," said JJ. "So it's between you boys."

"Look, I shared with him before," said Morgan to Reid. "It's your turn, kid."

"No way! I'm not backing down, Morgan. I shared with him in that B&B in Connecticut two months ago." Both men turned slowly to look at Hotch.

"Fine," he said. Personally, he thought they were all being a little childish. Rossi's snoring couldn't be possibly be that bad.

A moment later, Rossi returned with three little envelopes containing their key-cards. When Reid reached out to take his, Morgan took the opportunity to hang his go-bag on the younger man's outstretched arm.

"Take that up to our room, would you kid?" he said, flashing him a bright smile that always seemed to look even whiter against his dark skin. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm going for a quick swim before I hit the hay."

"Oh, count me in," said Prentiss, looping the strap of her bag over Reid's head. The young doctor sighed.

"I want you all back down here at eight a.m.," Hotch said as they turned to walk away but by the time he had finished speaking, they were already out the lobby door, becoming shadowy shapes against the gentle blue light of the pool.

JJ took Emily's bag from around Reid's neck and looped it over her shoulder.

"You okay?" Hotch asked her quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the other agents.

"Fine," she said, with a little nod, as though she was trying to convince herself as much as Hotch.

"Here." Rossi approached them and took both go-bags from JJ. "You coming, kiddo?" She turned and smiled a little, the first smile Hotch had seen on her face since her argument with Will.

"You head up, I need to call Will… see how Henry's doing." JJ went to stand outside the front doors and only Hotch and Reid remained in the lobby. He was about to ask Reid how he was doing, but his attention was diverted when he heard Prentiss scream. He looked out the glass doors and although they were no more than silhouettes, he could see that Morgan had thrown Prentiss easily over his shoulder and was getting ready to plunge in to the pool, kicking the pile of their discarded clothes out of the way. For a moment Hotch contemplated giving them a lecture on professionalism but he didn't have the energy and if he was honest, he hadn't seen either of them that happy for a long time. They deserved a break. A sudden thought crossed Hotch's mind and he turned to Reid.

"Did either of them bring a bathing suit?"

"Nope."

Reid slept badly that night, cold and miserable. He lay curled in the top corner of the bed with three pairs of socks on while Morgan was sleeping spread-eagled, somehow occupying all of the sizeable mattress. Several times Reid tried to push Morgan back over to his own side of the bed, but it was in vain, and he even considered waking Morgan up, but decided against it. Waking a strong, alpha male FBI agent in the middle of the night was probably not the best idea and it would almost certainly result in some kind of injury. Not to mention that Reid was fairly sure Morgan slept with his gun under his pillow.

In the next room, Hotch was having an equally bad night. Rossi's snoring was unbelievable. Hotch had no idea how so much noise could come from one person and as the night went on, the idea of beating his old friend to death with a pillow was becoming increasingly more inviting.

Every so often, a strip of light would slide across the yellow walls of the hotel room as the headlights of a passing car cut through the gap in the curtains. Hotch counted the passing vehicles, hoping to lull himself to sleep but his mind kept drifting to the latest murder victims, the young family stolen from their own car in the middle of a dark road.

Perhaps the mother had held her terrified daughter to her chest as the Unsub shovelled dirt on top of them, wept as the last rays of light were obliterated by the earth piling slowly and heavily on top of them. Perhaps the father raked at the wood of their makeshift coffin until his nails cracked and his fingers bled, not once giving up on the hope of saving his family until his lungs took their last painful, desperate breath. His dark thoughts melted in to dreams and for just a few seconds he was asleep. Then Rossi rolled on to his back and made a noise that sounded something akin to a fighter jet.

Hotch dragged himself out of bed, picked up his gun and slid it in to the waistband of his grey sweatpants. He stood for a moment and rubbed his eyes before he headed for the door, grabbing a sweater on the way. It was a brown sweater, the same one he had worn when the team had travelled to the woods of Pennsylvania to hunt down Shane Wyland who had been abducting and killing young boys. It was strange how things like pieces of clothing, places, or names could take on a grizzly significance when your job revolved around the the most disturbed and twisted people in the world.

He knew he was going to have to endure yet another sleepless night, so he sat down in the hallway with his back against the cold wall and waited for morning.

The low rumble of passing traffic had all but disappeared as the night wore on and the crescent moon drained the narrow corridor of colour and filled it instead with a wash of bluish-white light. After hours of silence, Hotch heard a door open at the end of the corridor and JJ walked up the hallway and entered her room. She hadn't noticed Hotch sitting in the shadows. A few minutes later, she re-emerged, inching the door closed behind her with a look of intense concentration as she tried not to wake Emily. She had changed in to her pyjamas, a loose-fitting mint green camisole and matching shorts. She looked pretty. Still not realising she had company, she leaned against the wall with her head tipped back, staring at the ceiling, taking deep, calming breaths.

"JJ?" She jumped and looked around.

"Hotch," she said, as she finally located where the voice had come from. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry." She came and sat beside him on the green and yellow patterned carpet. "Where have you been? It's almost two," he said.

"I was on the phone with Will. Why are you still up?"

"Rossi's snoring."

"It's terrible isn't it?"

"I've never heard anything like it," he said. "Maybe we've finally unravelled the mystery of why his three wives left him." JJ gave a little laugh and Hotch actually felt the beginnings of a smile pulling on his lips but his frown returned when he looked at JJ.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said with a convincing smile. She would appear to anyone else as the epitome of composure and grace but underneath that, he could tell she was struggling with something. He wished JJ wouldn't be so guarded when it came to her personal life, but he also realised how hypocritical that was.

"JJ."

"Really, Hotch, it's nothing," she said. "We're investigating the murders of seven people. One of them was a little girl who suffocated in her mother's arms. I'm not going to sit here and complain about my problems when they really don't matter."

"They matter to me." She looked at him for a long moment. "There will always be someone who is in a worse position than you, JJ, but that doesn't mean you lose the right to be miserable every once in a while." She wrapped her arms around herself, and Hotch saw little goosebumps running up her arms.

"Here," he said, pulling off his brown sweater and handing it to her, immediately feeling a rush of cold air against his exposed arms.

"Thanks," she said. The sleeves fell several inches past her hands but she didn't bother rolling them up. She studied him for a little while longer before giving a resigned sigh, "So, Will apologised for yelling at me," she said.

"Good. What were you talking about?"

"Everything, really. We've done nothing but fight for the past six months but we haven't really talked to each other. It was nice to finally get everything out in the open."

"And?"

"He's moving out."

"I'm sorry, JJ."

"Don't be. It's been a long time coming. He was right though, I do need to spend more time with Henry."

"You're considering leaving the BAU aren't you?" Hotch asked.

"It's crossed my mind," she admitted.

"I nearly left after Haley died."

"What stopped you?"

"I wanted Jack to be proud of what I do. There is nothing more important to me than being a good father to him, but I wouldn't be setting a very good example for my son if I gave up on the job I love, the job I've worked so hard for." JJ nodded. "And besides, he thinks I'm some kind of superhero and I spend my days saving lives, so that's pretty cool."

"That's what Henry thinks too," JJ said.

"Of course the choice is completely up to you," Hotch said, "but you should know if you ever decided to leave the BAU, I won't stop until I get you back."

She smiled. "You make a compelling argument, Agent Hotchner."

They continued talking about their children, reminiscing about their early years in the BAU and then they were just chatting about nothing in particular. The conversation was easy and comfortable and they talked until the cool morning sunlight started to ooze over the horizon. Then for the first time in hours, there was silence between them and it didn't take a profiler to see that there was still something she had left unsaid.

"Listen, Hotch. There's something I really need to tell you - "

At that moment, Reid emerged from his room wearing several pairs of socks and a scarf with his hair standing up at all angles. He slid down the wall, landing with a thump and a groan on the prickly carpet on JJ's other side. He didn't greet them, he just covered his eyes and said,

"Can I please kill Morgan?"

"Why?" asked Hotch.

"Because he is taking up the entire bed. It's almost six a.m., I've barely slept and I'm so tired and so cold." Hotch looked over to him. The poor kid looked exhausted with his knees curled up to his chin and his head in his hands.

"What are you guys doing up anyway?" he asked.

"Just talking," said JJ. "I'm actually going to go to bed, I'll see you guys in a couple hours." She moved to pull off Hotch's brown sweater.

"Keep it," he said. She smiled and stood, the sweater falling just above her knees, making it look like she was wearing a deeply unfashionable dress. And just like that, it was no longer the Pennsylvania-serial-killer sweater; it had a brand new, much more pleasant significance.

"Goodnight, Spence," JJ said, ruffling his hair as she passed him. "Night Hotch."

Hotch felt a little pang of regret as JJ's bedroom door closed. The entire team spent huge amounts of time together as co-workers, but it wasn't very often that they got to be together as anything more than that.

"I hate sharing rooms," Reid moaned. "I think the only good night's sleep I had was when I shared with you or Prentiss because you sleep like a normal people and not like a giant, annoying, cover-stealing starfish." Hotch held back a smile as the usually eloquent doctor turned in to a six-year-old before his very eyes.

"I wish I'd volunteered to share with Rossi. At least I'd be under the covers," said Reid. "And I don't think a bit of snoring could keep me awake right now."

"Want to swap rooms?"

"Oh, I wasn't suggesting -" he started.

"It's fine Reid, I'm not going to get much sleep anyway. It doesn't matter which room I'm in."

"Thanks," he said, dragging himself up from the floor and heading for Hotch's door. He paused before he entered. "Good night, Hotch."

"Night."

Half an hour passed before Hotch stood. The small of his back was numb and his legs were stiff; perhaps he would try to catch a few hours of sleep in a quieter room.

Hotch entered Morgan's room and closed the door silently behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that he could no longer hear the grating sounds of Rossi's breathing from the room next door. Once his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, he could make out the shape of Morgan, his limbs hanging from every corner of the bed. Hotch strode up to him, shoving him on the shoulder.

"Morgan, move the hell over."

"Mmm, yeah, sorry Hotch," he said and rolled over, still fast asleep.


	5. 1992

Pima County Sheriff's Department, Green Valley, 1992.

"Officer Holmes." The stern voice carried across the large, grey room, and the young officer looked up from his desk.

"Lieutenant Falconer," he said, addressing the older man as he strode towards him. "Something I can help you with?"

"When your superior asks you something I expect you to answer, not just ignore the question."

"Yes sir," Holmes said.

"So," Falconer continued, "are you coming for dinner or not?"

Holmes grinned. "Only if you promise you aren't going to set me up with another one of your wife's colleagues."

Falconer looked a little crestfallen as Holmes easily foresaw his plans. "Grace is a nice girl, Holmes, I think you'd like her." Holmes's expression was answer enough. "In fact, so was Harriet, Lisa, and Megan. You remember Megan? That pretty redhead? I don't know what's wrong with you. You're 26 years old, you should be thinking of settling down." Holmes just laughed and shook his head.

"No offence, but your wife is 37. It's safe to say her friends are not my type."

"You're too picky," he said, running his hand through his thinning hair. "That's your problem, too darn picky."

A young man caught Holmes's eye as he looked over his Lieutenant's shoulder. "Who's that?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the front desk.

"Some kid looking for a job… Watts I think he said his name was."

"What did you tell him?" Holmes asked, surveying the man carefully. He was probably a few years his junior, but his clean-shaven face and light brown hair made him look even younger.

"No vacancies," he said. "Shame though, he looks like a promising cop. Maybe in a year or two."

"Shame," Holmes agreed, taking one last look at the young officer before returning his gaze to Falconer. "Does the dinner offer still stand? Minus the blind date?"

"Yeah, sure," Falconer said. "I hate to think of you sitting alone in that little house all the time."

"It's just how I like it. Quiet."

"Well, I'm just looking out for you, kid," Lieutenant Falconer said.

"I know," said Holmes. "I'll be there."

"Seven o'clock," said Falconer. "And bring a bottle of wine."

"Yessir." Holmes went back to his work, writing up reports for a spate of robberies in the area, typing slowly on his large, beige-coloured computer that occupied the majority of the desk. It was tedious work and he often wondered what had been wrong with the old system of pen and paper. He kept letting his mind and eyes wander around the bullpen, looking at his colleagues. There were a few other officers around his age, but the majority were a lot older. Holmes didn't know any of them particularly well, nor did he have any inclination to. Lieutenant Falconer was probably his only friend in the department, and even that was only due to his sheer persistence, refusing to let Holmes indulge in his solitary ways, and pressing him to socialise with him until, quite without his consent, they had become good friends.

Another unknown face caught Holmes's eye as a little boy entered the office. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight, if that. He was small and weedy, and he was staring around nervously with eyes that looked far too big for his head. Whether it was from sadness or nervousness, there were tears on his sun-reddened cheeks. He looked on the verge of turning tail and running from the building when he saw Holmes watching him, but when Holmes beckoned him over, he did as he was instructed.

"Sit down," Holmes said, as kindly as his monophonic voice would allow. The boy obeyed, his short legs dangling in the air, and all the while he stared around as though he expected someone to be chasing him. "Who are you here with?"

"No one," he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, wiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand which was still chubby with childhood.

"Okay, why are you here?"

The boy was about to reply when Lieutenant Falconer appeared beside him.

"Bobby? What are you doing here?" The boy seemed relieved to see the Lieutenant, his terrified expression softening slightly.

"You know each other?" Holmes asked.

"Yeah," Falconer said. "C'mon, let's go and talk in here." He guided the kid away from Holmes's desk a little too quickly, leading him in to his office and leaving Holmes both perplexed and a little suspicious. He grabbed a stack of papers and hurried to the filing cabinet near the office door, hoping to overhear a little of the conversation.

"Why aren't you with your dad?" Falconer asked.

"I wanted to talk to a policeman," Bobby said, his voice almost inaudible.

"About what?"

"My daddy's being mean to me." This piqued Holmes's interest, but Falconer brushed the comment aside.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bobby. All kids think their parents are mean."

"But he's being _really _mean," Bobby said, his voice rising insistently. "He hurt my arm this morning." Holmes craned his neck, and manage to catch a glimpse of the boy through a narrow gap in the window blinds. He had pushed up the sleeve of his green shirt to show a reddish purple bruise just above his elbow, and although Holmes only managed a brief glance, he could have sworn there was another yellowing bruise under his shirt collar.

"Bobby, I've been friends with your dad for nearly thirty years. He's a good man, and a good father to you, you shouldn't go around saying things like that. You could get him in to a lot of trouble."

"He doesn't make me dinner anymore," he said, unperturbed by Falconer's warnings. "He just sleeps all the time." But his voice had fallen quiet again, and Holmes shifted closer to the door, making a convincing show of re-organising his folders on top of the cabinet as an excuse.

"Look, Bobby. I know things must have been hard since your mom died, but you have to help out your dad. He's having a tough time, and you need to be a good boy for him."

"Okay," he said at last.

"I'm going to drive you home, okay? And I don't want you wandering out of the house again. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

Holmes crossed quickly back to his desk to see Lieutenant Falconer and Bobby emerge from the office and head towards the front door. He wanted to go after them, insist that Falconer paid more attention to the boy's claims but before he could bring himself to act, they were gone.

Detective Lindsay sat opposite him at a grey desk, cluttered with pictures of his family and pets, and he watched Holmes staring at the door.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"You know where that kid lives?" Holmes asked, ignoring the detective's question.

"Sure," the detective said, scrawling the address down on a piece of paper and handing it to him. "Why?"

"Just want to follow something up," Holmes muttered.

An hour later, Holmes's shift ended, he grabbed his jacket and practically ran from the office, climbing in to his battered Ford Escort and setting off towards the address that Detective Lindsay had given him. Within five minutes he was parked outside Bobby's house, which looked just like all the others on the street, all pale coloured bungalows with low, sloping roofs, their front yards covered with gravel and outlined with smooth rocks to disguise the brown, dusty earth beneath. The only thing that set Bobby's house apart from the rest was the brittle bushes that had begun to grow uncontrolled across the front yard.

Holmes crossed the street quickly, anxious to see the boy again and hoping that it would put his mind at ease about what he thought he had seen earlier. He was probably just jumping to conclusions, getting over-excited and reading in to things. Just as he set foot on to the property, the door opened and Lieutenant Falconer emerged.

"Don't worry about it," he called to whoever was in the house. "Consider it done. Look after yourself, you hear?" He turned from the door and immediately caught sight of Holmes, standing frozen on the gravel path.

"What are you doing here, Holmes?" Falconer asked, looking uncertain.

"I wanted to check on the kid. When he spoke to me back at the office I just… I felt like something wasn't right."

"It's all dealt with," he said, simply, waving a careless hand. "I know the family, it's fine." Holmes frowned at the front door, chewing his bottom lip. "Holmes," Falconer said, clapping him on the shoulder, "lighten up. The kid's fine." At last Holmes met his friend's eyes and found his worry dissipating slightly. "Come on, you'd better not be late for my wife's dinner or she'll skin you alive."

"I don't doubt it," Holmes said before following the older man back along the garden path. He got in to his own car and watched Falconer drive off, put his hand on his keys in the ignition, but didn't move again after that. He sat watching the still house, the little boy's frightened face weighing on his mind.

Before he knew what he was doing he had climbed back out of his car. One second he was crossing the street, then he was walking across the gravel, and suddenly he was knocking on the front door with no idea about what he was going to say. The door swung open and a large man stood there, leaning on the door handle. His grey shirt was stained and there were dark rings beneath his dull blue eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I'm Officer Holmes - " he started.

"Get off my property," he said flatly. Holmes caught the strong scent of of whiskey on the man's heavy breath.

"I just wanted to ask - "

"I said get off my property," he repeated, straightening up and revealing himself to be several inches taller than Holmes had previously imagined. "You have no business here. If this is about what happened earlier, the kid was just messing around when he came down to the station. Weren't you?" He barked the question over his shoulder and Holmes peered around the man to see the boy standing in the hall, eyes wider than ever, wringing his small hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He took a frightened look at his father's questioning stare and nodded fervently. "There," the man said. "Now. Get. Off. My. Property." Holmes didn't know what else to do, so he did as he was commanded and turned away from the boy, got back in to his car and drove off.

That night he spent a pleasant few hours in the company of Lieutenant Falconer and his wife, but every so often throughout the meal, Holmes would find himself staring at Falconer, wondering how his Lieutenant could have ignored such obvious signs that the little boy was in trouble. Then again, he thought, Falconer knew the family personally, and had almost 15 years' more experience as a cop than he did. He should have faith in the Lieutenant's judgement.

They finished their meal but remained at the table, drinking a bottle of scotch while the Lieutenant regaled Mrs Falconer with stories of his younger days that she had no doubt heard a dozen times before. Several times that evening the telephone rang, and Lieutenant Falconer jumped up to answer it. Each time he returned to the table and Holmes enquired about the call, Falconer would brush off his questions with vague mentions of "work stuff", insisting that it was "nothing to worry about". When the Lieutenant resumed his seat at the table for a third time and gave him the same dismissive answers, Holmes realised that he didn't trust his only friend.

* * *

><p>The next day he strode in to the Sheriff's Office with determination, and knocked firmly on the Commander's door. The image of the little boy cowering in his father's gaze was more than enough to eliminate any nervousness that he might have been feeling at the prospect of addressing the Commander.<p>

"Come," came a deep voice from inside the room.

"Sir," Holmes greeted as he stood in front of Commander Anderson's large desk. He was a clean shaven man, with a square jaw and the kind of thick black eyebrows that made him look constantly angry, but Holmes couldn't see his face at that moment because he didn't even look up at the young officer. Taking a deep breath, Holmes started speaking anyway, addressing the greying crown of the Commander's head. "Sir, I have serious concerns about a boy that came in to see us yesterday. I went to his house and - "

"I already know what you did, Officer," Commander Anderson said, looking up from his desk at last to fix Holmes with an icy blue stare. "You harassed a man for no reason, immediately after a superior officer had told you that he had handled the situation."

"The kid has bruises on - " The Commander interrupted him brusquely.

"Quiet. I don't want to hear another word about this nonsense. You've been here less than a year, Officer Holmes, so I'm going to chalk this up to inexperience. But there is a hierarchy here, and it is made to be respected. If I _ever_ hear of you going over your superior's head again, there will be serious consequences. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir."

Holmes walked from the room with as much dignity as he could muster in the wake of his humiliating lecture, wondering how the Commander had known about his visit to Bobby's father's house the night before. As he emerged in to the bullpen, he looked across to see Lieutenant Falconer watching him, but as soon as their eyes met, the Lieutenant dropped his gaze and retreated in to his office without a word.


	6. Showdown

_"Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice."_ Michael Novak

Pima County Sheriff's Department, Green Valley, Present Day.

The team congregated in the Pima County Sheriff's Department early the next day. Hotch had only managed to get a couple of hours' sleep next to Morgan, but it was enough to allow him to look at the profile with fresh eyes. By midday they had added enough information to the profile to make it useful and they were ready to present it to the local police and the dozen officers from other parts of Pima County who had come to assist.

"The man we are looking for is likely to be in his mid-twenties to thirties," Hotch said, addressing the twenty or so cops who were gathered in front of him in the bullpen, some scribbling notes, others watching him intently. "He has narcissistic personality disorder which means he will be arrogant and he will be immensely proud of the murders he has committed so far," Hotch said. Morgan carried on,

"The Unsub, or Unknown Subject, will be very intelligent but he will have a menial job, simply because he cannot - and will not - play well with others. He will take the slightest criticism very badly, reacting with anger or violence."

"Because of this, the Unsub is likely to have been fired from one or more previous jobs," Prentiss continued. "His narcissism will be a result of the unreliable parenting he received as a child. It is likely that he had a violent or negligent father figure."

"He will come across as overconfident and will make a point of belittling those around him to make himself feel better. He will have no remorse for what he has done," Hotch said.

"Oh!"

The entire team turned to look at Deputy Commander Watts.

"It's Robert Fox," he said.

"You think he's the Unsub?" Hotch asked.

"I'm damned sure he is," Watts said. "He's gotta be about twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight now. I remember my younger sister telling me about him; they were in the same year at school. His mom died when he was seven, and after that he got all messed up. His dad, Jacob, started drinking and beating him, or so people said."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch noticed Sheriff Falconer shift uncomfortably against the table he was leaning on.

"When he was nine he blew up his neighbour's rabbit..."

"Blew it up?" Morgan repeated.

"He was a really smart kid, he knew how to blow up all sorts of stuff. It got him in a lot of trouble too. Just about took my sister's eye out one time."

As soon as Watts had mentioned the name, JJ had called Garcia to run a search on him. After only a minute on the phone, JJ shared Watts's conviction, so she walked behind the rest of her team to stand beside Hotch, and while everyone else was listening to the Deputy Commander, JJ leaned in towards her Unit Chief.

"That was Garcia on the phone," she said quietly. "She said that when Robert Fox was eight, he went to the cops and told them that his dad was beating him but they wouldn't believe him."

"That would explain why he chose to taunt the police with that note," he murmured back, keeping his head very close to JJ's to avoid anyone else hearing. She continued,

"Apparently the kid was in hospital several times a year with scoliosis and broken bones and all of his injuries were consistent with - "

"Being forced in to an enclosed space," Hotch finished. "That's why he buries his victims alive, he's recreating what happened to him when he was a child, except now he's the one who's in charge." JJ nodded. He caught her eye and saw his own feelings of foreboding reflected there before she stepped back from him. Hotch turned to the Sheriff.

"Why wasn't Robert Fox's abuse allegation taken seriously?" Hotch asked, interrupting Morgan. The room fell silent. Several people turned their gaze to the Sheriff. Again, the old man looked uncomfortable.

"He was just a kid, he was lookin' for attention, that's all," he said.

"Weren't you concerned when he ended up in hospital several times a year?" Hotch continued. He knew he should be having this conversation in private but he couldn't help himself.

"He was a clumsy kid."

"Damn it, no he wasn't!" The whole team turned to see Commander Holmes standing at the back of the group, watching the Sheriff with fury. "You knew that kid was being beaten and you didn't do a damn thing about it. I saw him come in here twenty years ago, crying and covered in bruises and you ignored him. You took an eight year old boy home to the man who was beating him just because you wouldn't accept that Jacob Fox, your goddamn golfing partner was a drunk, abusive son of a bitch!"

The Sheriff rose to his feet with fury in his eyes. "Take a walk, Commander," he said. "Right now."

Holmes held the Sheriff's gaze for a moment longer before kicking away his chair and storming from the bullpen.

Sheriff Falconer sat back down and said nothing. The two dozen men and women gathered there were watching the Sheriff uneasily. Several painful seconds passed and the large clock on the wall counted each one loudly.

"I think Robert Fox works night shifts at the mine," Watts said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. The entire room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"But working as a miner would mean he would have to work with a lot of other people, that doesn't fit the profile," Prentiss said.

"No, no, he's like an electrical technician or something. That's what I heard anyway."

The word 'electrical' rang in Hotch's ears. It seemed to have been a recurring theme throughout their short time in Green Valley.

"Wait," Reid said, apparently having had the same thought as Hotch. "Sheriff, you said there had been a lot of power outages recently."

"Yeah, so?" he said sharply.

"When was the last one?" Reid said, coolly, ignoring the Sheriff's acidic tone. "Excluding last night's of course."

He paused for a moment, scratching his balding head. "Tuesday night I guess."

"That's when the family was abducted," Prentiss said.

"And what about before that?"

"It was last Saturday night," one of the cops piped up.

"That's when the Law student was taken," Hotch said.

"So every time there's a power outage, someone else goes missing," said Rossi.

"Fox is an electrical technician in charge of an entire mine," Reid said, talking more to his team members now as he sounded out his idea. "In theory, he could overload the mine and cause a power surge that would knock out the power for the whole town."

"But why?" Watts asked.

"Because it means he gets the night off work to abduct someone," Hotch said. "It also means that people's homes are in darkness and there are no streetlights. He is setting up a perfect environment in which to abduct people without being noticed."

"There was another power outage last night," Rossi said, turning to Hotch and looking grim.

"I know."

"So he has probably abducted someone else already. And we only have a few hours to find them."

* * *

><p>Rossi, Prentiss, Reid and Morgan were already at Robert Fox's house, tearing it apart in the hopes of finding something that could lead them to the next victims, but Hotch had remained behind with JJ. She had put out a press release just a few minutes ago, setting up a tip-line and giving the profile to the public. They hadn't mentioned Fox by name in case they incited a manhunt, but it seemed that the town already had their suspicions.<p>

"I know who the killer is!" one person shouted down the phone. "Little Bobby Fox! He's bat-shit crazy!"

Hotch caught JJ's eye as he walked through the bullpen. She rolled her eyes as she listened to yet another worked-up Green Valley resident ranting down the phone.

"Yes, sir," she said, in her most placid voice. "We will certainly look in to that. Thank you." Hotch smiled a little as JJ hung up the phone with a look of bewildered exasperation, tearing the top page from her notepad and lobbing it in to the trashcan with practised ease.

Hotch turned as he heard the slightly uneven footsteps of the Sheriff coming up behind him, his shoes clicking on the chipped linoleum.

"Jacob Fox is my friend," he said. "I never thought he would actually hurt Robert."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Hotch said, turning towards their makeshift conference room.

"I thought the kid was just messing around." Hotch gave a non-committal murmur and continued towards the other end of the bullpen. "What was I supposed to do?" the Sheriff asked, and Hotch snapped.

"You were supposed to investigate the allegations that Robert Fox was being beaten by his own father!" he said. The Sheriff looked taken aback at the outburst. "Or you could have at least handed the case over to someone who wasn't personally involved with the family. If you had done that, and the boy had gotten some justice maybe he wouldn't have ended up like he did." He slammed the glass door of the conference room, very aware that he had overstepped the line. He stood for a few seconds, trying so hard to pull himself together that he didn't even notice JJ enter the room.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yes," he said curtly, but JJ kept watching him, her blue eyes expectant. "I know I shouldn't have lost my temper," he said after a moment. "But the police are here to protect people, especially kids. And they failed. They let him get hurt."

"I know," JJ said. "And maybe that's why Robert Fox turned out the way he did, but maybe it's not. You know as well as I do that there are dozens of factors that go in to making a serial killer. Sheriff Falconer can't be to blame for all of them."

"I know that," Hotch said. "I'm going to drive out to Fox's house. Will you be okay here?"

"I'll be fine," she said, turning to the door. "Be careful."

"I will."

After a few calming breaths, Hotch followed behind JJ and strode back across the main room towards the front door, but the sound of raised voices from the Sheriff's temporary office caught his attention. Holmes had returned and was standing in front of Falconer's desk, hands clasped behind his back and his expression unmoving as the Sheriff roared at him.

"Who the hell do you think you are speaking to me like that in front of my officers? I should have you suspended!"

"For what exactly?" Holmes's voice was much quieter than the Sheriff's but it still carried out in to the silent bullpen, as everyone sat at their desks, listening intently while pretending to be engrossed in their work. "For telling them exactly what I saw twenty years ago?"

"Get off your damned high horse, Holmes. You were there too. If you were so concerned about how I was doing my job, why didn't you do anything about it?"

"You know damn well I did you sly son of a bitch," Holmes said, his cool countenance breaking at last.

"Get out."

"I didn't say I was finished," Holmes growled. "I tried to get some justice for that kid, for months after you threw me under the bus with the Commander, but he kept shooting me down at every turn because you were still feeding him your bullshit stories about how Jacob Fox was a great guy. Jacob Fox would never hurt his son. Jacob Fox is Mother Goddamn Teresa. And he believed you because you were a Lieutenant and I was just a rookie. I trusted you. That little boy _trusted_ you. And look what your lies have done now."

"If you don't get your ass out of this office right now I'll have you fired," Falconer said. Holmes tore his badge from around his neck, took his gun from his belt and threw them on to the table. The gun knocked over a large mug, and coffee spilled across the Sheriff's paper-strewn desk.

Hotch heard someone groan beside him and he looked around to see Deputy Commander Watts watching the spectacle unfold.

"Oh Holmes," he breathed. "What are you doing?"

Holmes approached the Sheriff, slammed his hands down on the desk, his face inches from the Sheriff's.

"Seven people are dead because of you," he said, so quietly that Hotch was almost lip reading through the glass. The Sheriff blanched, but he was speechless as Holmes turned and left the office, slamming the door behind him and walking out of the building without a backwards glance.

Watts watched Holmes leave, then turned to Hotch with worry in his eyes. "Sheriff Falconer isn't a bad man," he said, glancing back to the office where the Sheriff was now sitting with his head in his hands. "But neither is Holmes. They both believe they're doing the right thing. Holmes especially. He blames himself for things… thinks they're his responsibility," Watts was getting more and more distracted as he stared after the troubled Commander. "I - I'm sorry I have to go," he said at last, hurrying from the station after his partner.

* * *

><p>Hotch joined Morgan, Reid, Prentiss and Rossi as they began pulling apart Robert Fox's house. It was a small, poorly kept bungalow, grubby on the outside, but filthy on the inside. Black garbage bags were taped across the windows and the brittle, overgrown plants in the garden were beginning to creep up on to the small porch.<p>

Hotch stripped of his suit jacket as he stepped out from the air-conditioned SUV and in to the sun, and pulled on his bulletproof vest over his shirt. Morgan and Reid filled him in on what little he had missed, but before he could even enter the front door, his phone started to ring. It was JJ.

"Yeah, JJ?"

"I've just had a call from a man who says he's just come home to find his wife and daughter missing - Mary and Rosie Banks."

"He's sure they are actually missing?"

"Yes. The Unsub left another note."

"Give me the address." JJ read him the address; it was only a few blocks away.

"Prentiss, with me," he said, getting back in to his SUV. She pulled off her rubber gloves, handed them to Morgan and jumped in to the passenger seat.

"What's up?" she asked as he started to drive.

"We know who Fox has abducted; a mother and daughter have just been reported missing."

"Just two victims?" Prentiss said. "I thought he would still be escalating."

"The father and son were away on a trip, looks like he was intending on abducting them all, but he didn't know that two of them were out of town."

"But he's usually so organised," she said.

"Then it looks like he's devolving," Hotch said, soaring through the red lights at the intersection.

"At least he's much more likely to make a mistake."

"But he's also twice as dangerous."

They pulled up at the house just as another police car arrived. Watts got of his car and headed in to the large, red-brick house. Commander Holmes was nowhere to be seen.

Hotch and Prentiss pulled off their kevlar vests and followed suit, past the white picket fence and neatly tended front yard, and in to a large, bright hallway. At the far end, a huge two-storey window looked out over the vast golf course, a sea of vibrant green the contrasted sharply with the dry desert that it lay upon. Hotch and Prentiss both looked through a large archway to the left to see a frantic looking man sitting on the leather couch, clutching his son's shoulder. Watts was already with them.

"Mr Banks?" said Watts.

"You have to find my wife and my little girl," he said, standing abruptly. "Please. It's all my fault. Oh God I should never have left. Mary told me to hold off 'til next weekend. I should have listened."

"Listen to me, Mr Banks," Watts said, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, "this isn't your fault. We've got half of Pima County down here, and the best criminal profilers in the country. We will get your family back."

"Well that's new," Prentiss said, standing with Hotch in the hallway and pulling her eyes away from the distraught father. "It looks like there was a struggle this time. He's definitely devolving, he's completely losing control of his abductions." A broken glass vase, a coffee cup and several books were scattered across the floor where a little wooden table had been tipped. A murky brown puddle had spread across the floor, staining the pristine cream carpet. Hotch surveyed the scene carefully, trying to work out what it was that was nagging at the back of his mind.

"Oh, and he knows the FBI is here," she said pointing to a note placed on the sideboard.

_Tick tock, Agents._

"He's taunting us again."

They both circled the large entranceway, looking for anything else that might point them to Robert Fox's whereabouts, but despite the scene of destruction, there was still nothing to be found. Prentiss's cell rang. After a quick conversation with Morgan, she hung up.

"Fox wasn't at his house, it doesn't look like he's been there for days," she said.

"Anything to indicate where he is hiding his victims?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, we need to start canvassing the area, the neighbours must have seen or heard something that can give us a clue –"

This time, Hotch's cell buzzed in his pocket. It was a number he didn't recognise.

"Agent Hotchner," he said.

"You don't have long Agent Hotchner," said a man's voice.

"Who is this?" he asked, waving at Prentiss. She realised immediately who was on the phone and called Garcia to try and trace the call.

"You know who this is. You've already ransacked my house."

"Yes, we did. We were looking for Mary and Rosie Banks."

"You think I'd be stupid enough to keep them in my house?" Fox said.

Hotch was faced with a split second decision. Should he congratulate and compliment Fox in an attempt to keep him calm, or should he insult his intelligence, make him angry and hope he slips up and reveals something of import.

"No, I don't think you're stupid," he said. "You've come this far without getting caught. It's very impressive."

"You're damn right it's impressive," he growled. "Not even the FBI can catch me. You don't even have any evidence against me except your stupid profile which, by the way, is total bullshit. You'll never find me."

Prentiss gave Hotch the thumbs up, telling him that they had Fox's location.

"We have every intention of getting Mary and Rosie back," Hotch said.

"I would _love_ to see you try." And the line went dead.

"He's in a warehouse a few miles out of town. Garcia's already sent me the coordinates," Prentiss said.

"Let's go."


	7. Fox Trap

A short time later, the entire team was ready to enter the enormous warehouse, a lone grey shape in the middle of the sprawling expanse of brown earth that vanished in to the horizon. The sun was beating down from the endless blue sky and Hotch felt sweat drip down his back under his shirt and kevlar vest. Deputy Commander Watts stood by his car, making the wise decision to keep back while the agents prepared to go inside.

Hotch put his ear-piece in to his ear, then glanced at Morgan who gave him a quick nod as he stood poised at the door. Hotch pulled the door open, trying to move the heavy steel as quietly as possible, and Morgan slipped in immediately, gun raised, followed by Prentiss and JJ while Rossi and Reid circled around the back to ensure there wasn't another escape route for Robert Fox to scurry out of. Hotch brought up the rear and he was hit with a blast of hot air as he entered the steel building. They spread across the warehouse in perfect synchronicity, checking every corner in a matter of moments.

"Clear!" came Morgan's voice.

Hotch felt around the wall for the light switch and flipped it. Row by row, the warehouse lights came on revealing the little girl and her mother tied to a pipe against the wall. They were both blindfolded but the Unsub was nowhere to be found.

"I need a medic in here!" called JJ as she hurried towards the victims.

Rossi and Reid entered the warehouse by the front door and approached Hotch, Watts just behind them.

"There's no sign of him outside. He's either long gone or he's still in here somewhere," Reid said, pulling his cellphone out to track Fox's coordinates.

"Are the medics on the way?" Hotch asked.

"They're a couple of minutes out," Watts said.

"I don't get it," Reid said a moment later, standing in the middle of the warehouse and staring at his cell phone, looking all around. "The GPS tracker on Fox's phone says he is right here," he pointed to the spot where he was standing. "Exactly here." Before Hotch could say anything he heard Prentiss call his name.

"Hey Hotch!" she shouted, her voice emanating from behind a pile of crates. He went over to where Prentiss was standing with Morgan, both of them looking at something on the ground. As he got closer, he saw what looked like a set of hinges and a handle drilled in to the concrete floor.

"There's a trapdoor here." Morgan said. He stamped his foot down on the floor and Hotch heard the hollow sound of wood. "It's a fake floor, this whole section isn't concrete. There must be a basement or something."

"Okay, open it," Hotch said, pointing his gun towards the hatch. Morgan did the same and Prentiss took hold of the metal handle. She looked at Hotch and on his signal she pulled the trapdoor open in one swift move. There was nothing visible but a dank, dirty floor and a wooden ladder.

"We'll check it out," Morgan said, climbing down the ladder and in to the dark with Prentiss close behind.

"Be careful," Hotch said. While he waited for them to re-emerge he watched JJ who was busy consoling the mother and daughter, untying the ropes that bound their wrists and ankles.

"Do you know where Robert Fox went?" he heard her say.

"No," Mrs Banks said. "I just kept hearing a door open and close and he was muttering something about a basement, but then everything went quiet. I'm sorry, I don't know!"

"Shh, it's okay," JJ said, gripping the woman's hand. "Don't worry about any of that. The only thing that matters is getting you home." She turned to the little girl, whose face was buried in to her mother's arm, and said something to her, but her gentle voice was too quite to carry to the other side of the building. But whatever she had said, it had worked, because Rosie Banks sat up a little, wiped her nose on her sleeve and spoke to the agent with a bashful smile. Hotch was dragged away from his observation when Prentiss and Morgan re-emerged and pulled themselves out of the hatch.

"I don't know what that is," Prentiss said, a little breathlessly, "but it's not a basement."

"It must be four, maybe five times the size of this warehouse and there are tunnels everywhere," Morgan said.

Hotch called over the rest of the team and phoned Garcia, putting her on loudspeaker as Reid and Rossi joined the group.

"Good afternoon, sir, what can I do you for?" said the always perky technical analyst.

"Can you get the building plans for this warehouse?"

"I'll have them for you in just a hot second, sir." He stayed on the line, hearing the clicking of her keyboard. While they waited, the medics arrived, led by Watts, and they helped Mary and Rosie to their feet and guided them from the swelteringly hot warehouse. Rosie even stopped to give JJ a cheerful wave, which she returned before heading over to join her team. A moment later, Garcia spoke again,

"You, sir, are standing on a partially built mine."

"Another mine?"

"Yes indeedio," she said, "but this is something of an illicit one. A few years ago, five young fellas bought this warehouse and they said they needed it for storage, but their pants were well and truly on fire because they started digging tunnels in the basement looking for a mineral called-"

"Molybdenite," Prentiss said. Hotch, Reid, Rossi, Morgan and JJ all shot her the same surprised look.

"What?" she said. "I'm not allowed to know stuff?"

"Points to Prentiss," Garcia said. "It's a mineral that has rhenium in it. It sells for a pretty penny so these kids started selling it to a... shall we say 'less than credible' aircraft building company. Long story short, there was a big plane crash and the whole scandal was uncovered. A lot of people were killed, it was terrible. The boys all went to prison and the warehouse has been abandoned ever since."

"So you're saying there is a whole network of mines underneath us where Fox could be hiding?"

"Yeah."

"Is it safe down there?" Hotch asked.

"Super duper safe, sir, according to the reports I have here. Most of the tunnels were blocked off when the cops discovered the whole operation, and the remaining tunnels have all been reinforced with beams and the likes."

"Could you - "

"Send you a map of any remaining tunnels? Already done, sir."

He thanked Garcia and hung up, mildly amused by the number of times she had called him "sir", clearly overcompensating for her embarrassing slip of the tongue the day before. He opened the file Garcia had sent him and gave the map a look over.

"Okay, Prentiss and Morgan you take the first tunnel here," he said, pointing to the first narrow path to diverge from the main passage. "Dave, you and JJ take this tunnel further down and Reid, you and I will take the main tunnel."

Hotch called over Watts who had just re-entered the warehouse followed by some of his officers.

"We think Fox is somewhere in these tunnels. We'll need officers waiting here at the hatch in case he slips past us, and some others patrolling the outside of the warehouse too."

"No problem," said Watts. "I won't leave this spot. He's not getting away."

The team descended the ladders in to the mine. As soon as his feet hit the rough ground, Hotch felt uncomfortable. He was by no means claustrophobic but being stuck in an enclosed space with an Unsub was not high on his list of favourite things to do. Together, they walked along the damp tunnels. The smell of mould and wet earth was cloying; it seemed that the stagnant air had been trapped down here for years, but at least it was a little cooler.

With six flashlights shining through the darkness, it was relatively easy to see but when Prentiss and Morgan split off from the group, followed by JJ and Rossi a few moments later, Hotch became acutely aware of how dense the darkness was. Every so often, their movements along the tunnel would disturb some of the dirt and rocks that made up the mine walls, making little clattering noises that set Hotch on edge.

When Reid eventually left his side to investigate another smaller tunnel that had not appeared on the map, the only guidance Hotch had through the darkness was the little halo of light cast by the flashlight in his hand. He rounded each corner cautiously, expecting to find the Unsub at every turn. The image of someone appearing from the blackness behind him kept playing on his mind, making him periodically check over his shoulder. He continued in to the deepest part of the mine and realised he had lost all sense of direction. Ahead of him, he thought he saw a faint flicker of red light.

"Hotch," a voice whispered in the darkness. He jumped a little before he realised that it was only Morgan talking to him through his earpiece.

"Yeah, Morgan," he replied, feeling his heart banging against his ribcage.

"We've reached the end of our tunnel, the Unsub's not here, we're heading back."

"I'm still looking," Hotch said, "but it doesn't look like there's any sign down here either."

As he was speaking, he kept staring ahead for another glimpse of the light he thought he had seen, sweeping every inch of the mine with his flashlight before he proceeded. He couldn't see any evidence of Robert Fox but he saw that glimmer of light again, and this time it didn't vanish. The closer he got, the higher the light seemed to become. It was only when he was standing a few feet away from it that he realised the red speck was on the ceiling. Shining his flashlight directly above him he saw a tangle of wires, a timer, several blocks of C4. He was standing squarely beneath a bomb and he had led his team straight in to a trap.

8...7...6...

"Everybody get out! Get out now!" he yelled.

5...4...

He ran as fast as he could back down the corridor. He could hear Morgan yelling to Prentiss in his earpiece.

3...2...1...

He only just managed to round the corner before the deafening blast filled the tunnels. A ringing filled his ears, so loud that it sounded like screaming. A thunderous rumble shook the very walls as the mine began to collapse. Hotch ran. He bumped in to walls, almost blind in the blackness. He felt rocks fall from the ceiling on to his shoulders. Soon he could hear the voices of the rest of the team and saw flashlights ahead. He could see Reid amongst the falling rocks, Rossi was pulling him, but Reid wouldn't move.

"Reid what the hell are you doing?" Rossi yelled.

"I'm not leaving without him!" the young agent called back. Hotch was so close to them now. A huge piece of rock fell from above and landed on him. Hotch cried out in pain as he felt the crack of his collarbone. He fell to the ground, scrabbling in darkness.

"God damn it, Reid! Run!" Hotch yelled.

"Come on Hotch, you can make it!" He pulled himself up and kept running. "Hotch! Come on!" He was so close now... The last thing he saw was Reid's outstretched hand just inches from his own before the entire mine and the building above collapsed in on them.


	8. Miracle

When Hotch finally regained consciousness, there was nothing but blackness around him. Blackness and silence.

He was lying on his front, feeling the cold damp ground beneath him seeping in to his clothes and he could taste blood. He tried to push himself upright but he couldn't move his left arm so he pushed hard with his right arm and managed to get himself in to a sitting position. A small rock fell from the ceiling above him and skittered across the ground, echoing through the dark.

It was only then that he realised how fast he was breathing. He tried to steady himself and take a few deep breaths but that, too, proved difficult. He winced as his sides lit up with pain. He tore the Velcro strips from the side of his bulletproof vest and tossed it aside, relieving some of the pressure on his painful ribs. He held his breath, savouring the momentary relief it gave him from the pain of inhaling. He thought he could hear something just then, something so faint that he could scarcely make it out.

"Reid?" He felt around clumsily with his good hand, feeling for his flashlight, his cell phone, anything that might cast some light through the thick darkness that was pressing itself against his eyes. His flashlight was gone but he felt his cell phone in his right pocket. He pulled it out and pressed button after button but nothing happened. He ran his thumb across it and felt the shattered remnants of the screen. "Damn it," he hissed, tossing the phone away.

"JJ? Dave?" he called name after name, but no one replied. "Prentiss? Morgan? Anyone." He kept calling out names between his shaky, broken breaths but stopped because after several silent minutes it began to feel like he was rhyming off a list of the dead. And he couldn't help wondering how long it would be until his name was added to the end of it.

He couldn't do anything except lean against the cold wall and try to keep breathing. Every so often a moan of pain would escape his lips as he exhaled. He had just lost every single one of his friends. In the privacy of the dark and the silence he let the tears fall from his eyes. He couldn't concentrate, he could even think because his entire body was burning. He gritted his teeth and pressed his head against the hard wall, groaning in agony and anger.

"Hotch..."

"Reid?"

"Hotch." It took him a moment to brace himself before he pushed himself forward doing his best to stifle the noises of pain that kept escaping from his throat. He crawled across the ground, moving towards the voice and feeling the way with his arm, like a blind man with his cane.

"I'm over here." Finally, his hand came in to contact with something warm. He felt the young man's hand grip his arm firmly as though he thought Hotch was going to disappear back in to the darkness at any moment. He slumped down beside Reid, breathless and weak even though he had only travelled about six feet.

"Have you got a flashlight?" Hotch panted.

"Mine is broken," said Reid. "What happened?"

"There was a bomb. Where are Rossi and JJ?"

"I don't know!" Reid said, his voice rising in panic. "I thought Rossi was beside me." The image of Reid standing amongst the falling rocks came in to Hotch's mind.

"Why the hell didn't you run, Reid? You were ten feet from the exit."

"I wasn't going to leave without you."

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" he said breathlessly. He was angry, not at Reid but at the horror of the entire situation. Reid didn't reply. "But thank you," Hotch added. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Reid said. "I hit my head pretty hard but I think I'm okay. What about you?"

"I'm fine," he said. He was still piecing together the minutes before the blast. It was as if his brain was refusing to accept that any of this had really happened.

_"We've reached the end of our tunnels, the Unsub's not here, we're heading back." _That's what Morgan had said. That meant that he and Prentiss were deep within the mine when it began to collapse. They would never have made it to the exit in time.

"What do we do now?" Reid asked, still grasping Hotch's arm.

"Reid?" came a pained voice a few feet away. A flashlight cut through the dark. It burned Hotch's eyes for a moment and he squinted. Once his eyes adjusted he saw Rossi sitting slumped against the wall, holding the flashlight in his bloody hand. The one little disc of light was enough to illuminate the whole of their surroundings.

"You're okay," said Reid.

"I wouldn't call this okay," Rossi groaned. His face and arms were grazed and bleeding, blood matting in his goatee, and he seemed only half-conscious. He could barely hold the flashlight in his limp arm, so with a great effort he pushed it over to Hotch.

"Where's JJ?" Hotch asked him.

"I don't know," he said.

"You were supposed to be with her!" he said.

"I was," Rossi shot back, slurring his words slightly. "She was sright b'side me, I swear." He leaned forward and put his head between his legs with a groan. "I think I'm going to hurl."

"Dave?" Hotch asked, his anger vanishing swiftly.

"I'm fine. S'just a concussion," Rossi said, waving his hand dismissively, but not daring to raise his head back up. Hotch shone the flashlight around the mine. They were trapped between two enormous piles of fallen rocks in a space no bigger than his office in the BAU. Above them, the ceiling was cracked and sagging under the weight of an entire warehouse above it. The only reason they were alive, it seemed, was because of two wooden pillars that bolstered the walls and held up the ceiling; two fragile bits of wood that separated them from a hundred tons of cement and rock.

Hotch got unsteadily to his feet and looked around, relieved to find that his legs were more or less uninjured. This amount of destruction hadn't come from just one bomb. There must have been several bombs all through the mine, maybe even hidden in the warehouse above. Fox had been planning this trap for a while. Probably since he heard the FBI had been called in.

Hotch stood in the centre of the clearing, terrified to touch the walls incase it brought down the entire structure. There didn't appear to be any way out and the wooden posts wouldn't hold the walls for long. He scanned the floor for another flashlight or a cell phone but instead he saw blonde hair and a limp hand under a blanket of debris and rocks. "Oh God, JJ." Hotch dropped to his knees started pushing away the rubble that covered her. With the assistance of Reid, he pulled her in to the middle of the room. There were cuts all over her arms and face and red-purple bruises were already appearing on her pale skin.

"Back up, would you?" Hotch said, as Rossi pulled himself across the ground beside Reid to crowd round her. "JJ?" He lowered his cheek to her mouth, praying that he would feel her breathing. He could see her chest rising ever so slightly and felt her warm breath on his cheek.

"She's alive," he said, the rush of relief that swept over him knocking what little breath he had out of his lungs..

"Thank God," said Rossi.

"JJ?" he said again, shaking her gently by the shoulder. She didn't stir so Hotch lifted her on to his lap and held her against his chest so that at least some of her body wasn't lying on the damp ground.

"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Both men shook their heads.

"Someone will come and get us," Rossi said.

"I'm not so sure," Hotch said. "After an explosion like that they'll be looking for bodies, not survivors. They might not come for hours."

"Not really helping with the moral here, Aaron," said Rossi drily.

Hotch felt a gentle vibration against his chest as JJ tried to speak, but all she could manage was a weak murmur.

"JJ? Can you hear me?" She shifted slightly, eyes still shut. "JJ?"

"Aaron," she said. Her eyes fluttered open and for just a second, she looked peaceful and content as though he had woken her from a nap. Then she realised where she was. "Was that a bomb?" she asked incredulously, pushing herself upright.

"Yes."

"Where are Prentiss and Morgan?" she asked. But she seemed to have sat up too quickly and gripped Hotch's arm to keep herself from slumping over.

"We don't know."

She turned around and sat back against the wall, apparently unable to absorb everything at the moment. Rossi and Reid sat either side of her with the same blank expressions.

Hotch put his head in his hands, his head swimming. He could feel something warm and sticky on the side of his face - his ear was bleeding. Presumably he had ruptured his eardrum again. That would account for the ringing in his ears and the thumping pain that radiated on to his face.

He kept reliving the final few moments before the bombs exploded. How could he have been so stupid? Of course it was a trap. Fox had been so organised up until now, he would never have allowed them to trace his cell phone unless he wanted to be found. The note in the Banks's house should have been a huge hint too. _Tick tock, Agents_ it had said. How could Hotch have missed such a thinly veiled reference to a bomb?

It was only then that he realised what had been troubling him back at the Banks's house, the little nagging voice at the back of his mind that he couldn't define. It was the note. The entire hallway had been a mess, tipped tables and stained carpets, as though there had been a frantic, frenzied struggle. Except for the note. Fox had taken the time to place it neatly on the sideboard for them to see, which meant the destruction in the hall had all been for show. He had deliberately led them to believe he was devolving, losing control of his abductions, but really he had never been sharper or more in control, and had led them in to the tunnels like a sheepdog with his sheep.

Fox's words on the phone played over and over in his mind. _"I would _love_ to see you try."_ Fox wasn't just being a smart-ass, he was being literal. Somewhere nearby Fox was sitting, safe and smug watching the last of the warehouse crumble to the ground. It all seemed so obvious now. Clearly his thoughts were showing on his face because Rossi shifted over beside him.

"This isn't your - "

"Don't tell me this isn't my fault, Dave!" he snapped. He felt a sharp pain in his side, as though someone was twisting a knife between his ribs. "I just led my entire team in to a trap. Two of my friends might already be dead and God knows what's going to happen to the rest of us so cut the sympathetic bullshit." Reid shot him a surprised look and Rossi backed off almost immediately, returning to his position beside JJ and leaving Hotch feeling even more guilty.

Beside him, JJ wrapped her arms around her torso and curled up against the wall. For a moment, Hotch thought she was crying but when he looked around at her, there were no tears in her eyes, but he could see that she was struggling to keep herself calm.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked.

"No." Hotch didn't blame her for admitting it. She didn't speak again for a few moments and Hotch turned his gaze to the ceiling which was poised on the edge of collapse. "I'm pregnant," she said. Hotch whipped around to look at her, ignoring the throbbing protests of his head.

"What?" Reid gasped.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rossi asked. Hotch tried to shift around to face her but every time he moved his left arm, pain shot across his chest and up his neck. JJ looked at him with misery in her eyes.

"I tried to tell you," she said. She was replying to Rossi's question but she was looking straight a Hotch. "I really did. I didn't mean to keep it a secret." She paused for a moment. "It isn't Will's baby." Hotch's eyes widened but before he had time to form a proper response, the shrill ring of a cell phone filled the still air, making them all jump.

"I think that's mine," JJ said, looking around. "Hotch turn that off." He obliged, clicking off his flashlight, still reeling from JJ's announcement. Complete darkness engulfed them again, except for a dull glow emanating from the rocks where he had found JJ. Hotch heard her feet scuff along the ground and heard the scraping of rocks as she fumbled for her cell.

"Got it." Hotch switched the light on again.

"Hello? Oh Garcia, thank God." She put the phone on the speaker with shaking fingers.

"Oh JJ, you're alive." Her voice was cracked and breathless. "I can't get through to anyone else, you're the only one and you guys are all over the news and no one knows what happened!"

"There was a bomb," Hotch said.

"Who is that? Is that Hotch? Oh thank God. Who else is there?"

"I've got Reid and Rossi with me too," JJ said.

"And Morgan? And Emily?" JJ remained silent this time. "JJ. Where are they?"

"I don't know, Pen."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"They were on the other side of the mine when it fell. I'm sorry Garcia, we haven't heard from them." Her only response was a sorrowful little moan. "Garcia? Garcia?"

There was a pause and then she finally replied, "I'm still here."

"Please tell me that someone is coming to get us out of here," JJ said.

"Of course, the rescue teams are on the way. I... I have to go, I need to call Morgan again."

"Okay," JJ said.

"Take care, my doves." And then she was gone.

"I hope Morgan and Prentiss are okay," JJ said, but no one offered any words of comfort or reassurance, simply because there weren't any. In Hotch's mind, there was very little chance that Morgan and Prentiss had survived the mine collapse. The fact that any of them were alive at all was nothing short of a miracle.


	9. Jenga

Emily Prentiss was sitting in the dark on the damp ground, exhausted and scared. Her hands and forearms were scraped and stinging from her futile attack against the rocks that enclosed her. Hotch's yell was still ringing in her ears. "Everybody get out! Get out now!" Where was he now? If he had been standing close to the explosives, he was probably dead. The thought of that made her feel sick and at the same time she felt totally empty. She wasn't sure how long she had been trapped, but night must have been falling because the temperature in the tunnel was dropping. It was so utterly black that she might as well be sitting with her eyes closed but the adrenaline still pumping through her veins kept her eyes wide open and staring, waiting to see something that would indicate a way out, but there was nothing. Not one solitary speck of light or a hopeful glow coming from above her. There was absolutely nothing.

"My ass is cold," she said.

"Yeah well my face is sore," replied Morgan.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"I really didn't mean to hit you so hard," she said.

"Safe to say I'll never tell you to calm down again," he said. "It doesn't end well for my face." Prentiss smiled but winced as the burning pain on the side of her face intensified. She knew her cheek was badly cut but she was too scared to bring her hands up to check just incase it was worse than she thought and one side of her face was hanging off. "I'm glad to see those combat classes are paying off," he added.

"Well you're a good teacher."

"If I'd know that my own lessons were going to be used against me, I might not have taught you so well." Prentiss made a little noise of amusement, too tense and frightened to fake a proper laugh.

"My ass is still cold," she said.

"Come over here then," he said. "Sit on my knee."

"You're kidding."

"Prentiss, we went skinny dipping last night and you think it's weird to sit on my lap?" he asked. Although she couldn't see his face, she could picture his exact expression. One eyebrow raised and a dubious, crooked smile on his lips. "I suppose that makes sense given your relationship with your father."

"Morgan, don't you dare profile me. I will profile you right back and I can guarantee you won't like what I have to say." Now she could imagine him raising his hands in front of himself in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, okay, if I'm not allowed to profile you, can we play a game or something?"

"Like what?" she asked.

"Truth or dare."

"We're buried alive," she said. "How many dares can we do?"

"Fine, let's just play truth then."

"Okay, you go first. Ask me anything," Prentiss said.

"What's your magic number?"

"Morgan!"

"Hey, you said I could ask you anything. Anyway, we're probably going to die down here, so you might as well tell me. How many people have you slept with?" She could tell from his voice that he was only half serious about them dying, but she still didn't like hearing that very real possibility spoken out loud.

"Fine," she said eventually. "Eleven."

"Eleven?"

"What's wrong with eleven?"

"Nothing," he said. "I just expected a lot more. I thought you were going to say thirty, maybe forty." She felt around with her foot until she found Morgans leg and kicked it hard.

"Well what about you?" she asked. "I'm sure you're pushing triple digits."

"Twenty four… ish."

"Not bad," she said. "Although I gotta say it's ruined your player reputation for me, I think I was expecting more too." They lapsed in to silence. Their humour was only a thin veil separating them from total panic, and they could both feel the gravity of their situation weighing down on them, threatening to tear their fragile coping mechanisms. There was a distant rumble of falling rocks from somewhere deeper in the caves and the walls shuddered. Prentiss felt a rush of panic as the rumbling got louder, expecting their part of the tunnel to collapse at any moment. But a few seconds later the cave fell silent again and Morgan spoke.

"What about Rossi?" he said, his voice convincingly steady. Prentiss laughed nervously, not realising she had been holding her breath.

"How many people has he slept with?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Well he's in his early sixties, right? So I'm going to say forty-five."

"Forty-five women?" Morgan asked. "Remember he's been married most of his life."

"Well you don't get a reputation like his for nothing!"

"Fair enough," Morgan said, and then he seemed to have and idea. "I have a dare for you."

"Go on," Prentiss said, a little warily.

"If we ever get out of here, I dare you to ask Rossi what his magic number is."

"I never back out of a dare."

"Shake on it." She reached out blindly, trying to find Morgan's hand. Eventually she found him and they shook hands but she didn't let go. Instead she used the hand to pull herself over to him. She lay beside him and rested the uninjured side of her face on his warm shoulder.

"I'm scared Morgan."

"Yeah, me too," he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer. "Me too."

* * *

><p>The pain in Hotch's chest was becoming almost unbearable. It took all of his remaining energy not to groan in pain as his lungs repeatedly pressed on his ribs. He felt hot and restless and a cold sweat broke out on his face. He began to regret removing his tight bulletproof vest, wondering if it would have provided his splintered bones with some kind of support. That was what doctors used to do, wasn't it? Bind broken ribs? He wanted to reach for his vest but he found that he couldn't move his arms, and the voices of his team grew distant and muffled as though he were underwater. He felt so tired, he wanted to sleep, to drift off somewhere without pain and guilt but he remained resolutely awake even as unconsciousness pulled at him. If he drifted off he might not wake up again… As it became harder and harder to keep his eyes open, the realisation hit him that he was dying.<p>

"We have to get out of here," Rossi said after a long silence, taking the flashlight from Hotch's loose grip and beginning to check the perimeter of the cramped cave, looking for movable rocks or a gap that they could squeeze through. JJ sat against the wall opposite Hotch. A drop of water fell from the ceiling and ran down her neck and she shuddered, wiping the cold drip away with her hand. It must be raining, she thought. She returned her gaze to Hotch. Even in the dim yellow light of their single flashlight she could see that he was pale. His forehead was glistening with sweat and he had his head bowed and eyes shut. But every time JJ asked him if he was okay, he would reply with a curt 'fine', barely looking up.

"Hey, Rossi, look over here," Reid said. Rossi joined him on the far side of their cold stone room. "I think we could move some of this rubble out of the way and actually get through."

"What can you see?" Rossi asked. Reid had his face and the flashlight pressed against the wall, peering through a tiny gap. With Reid pointing the light through the wall, it was almost completely dark again in the cave.

"There's definitely another open space and I'm pretty sure the trapdoor is in that direction." Reid started to pull on the rocks. "Hey, I can see light! I think it's the moon."

"Shouldn't we wait for the rescue team?" JJ said, wary of tampering with the fragile structure of the tunnel.

"I'm not sure there's time for that," Rossi said. JJ looked up at the crumbling, sagging ceiling and realised Rossi had a point.

"Okay. Just please be careful," she said. Reid resumed his dismantling of the wall, testing each rock carefully before he pulled it out. JJ felt a terrible lurch in her stomach every time Reid shifted part of the wall, convinced that any movement could bury them.

"This is like the most tense game of Jenga ever," Rossi whispered. JJ and Reid both shot him the same incredulous look. "Just trying to lighten the mood." Finally there was a gap big enough for a person to slip through. Reid tucked his hair behind his ears and stuck his head through the hole.

"What do you think you're doing, kid?" Rossi asked.

"I'm trying to find us a way out."

"And what if the whole thing collapses when you are through there? We don't even know how safe it is."

"What else are we supposed to do?"

"Let me go first," Rossi said.

"If the place is going to collapse, it's going to collapse, it doesn't matter who is through there," Reid said.

"It does matter, I'm not putting you in any more danger than necessary."

"But Rossi -"

"This isn't negotiable, kiddo," he said, tearing off the velcro of his bulletproof vest and dropping it on to the ground. "I'm twice your age and nearly retired. If anyone is going through it's me. If it's safe and I can find a way out, then you can come through."

"Be careful, Dave," Hotch said. He barely recognised his own breathless, unsteady voice, but he was watching Rossi fixedly. "And don't take any risks, if you can't find a way out, just come back."

"Don't worry about me," he said with a quick smile and disappeared through the hole. They could hear his footsteps as he shuffled around in the rubble.

"What can you see?" Reid asked after a moment.

"Just more rocks," he said. His voice was a little further away when he continued speaking. "If I can just shift some of these I think I can make it to where the trapdoor should be."

The hole they had made in the wall was the first thing to collapse. Moments later there was an almighty rumble as the rocks on Rossi's side of the gap started to crumble, followed by huge chunks of the ceiling and there was a strangled yell from through the rubble. The entire cave continued to shake as the room where Rossi had been standing filled with rocks and debris.

"Rossi!" Reid scrambled back from the wall. JJ ran towards Reid, pulling him further back from the falling pieces of ceiling.

"Dave!" Instead of retreating from the danger, Hotch stumbled towards the wall of rocks and pulled and pushed and hammered against the boulders. "Dave!" he yelled again. There was no reply. He continued to fight breathlessly against the pile of rubble now separating him from his friend. As the deafening rumble quietened Hotch put his hand against the cold stone, gasping. Then his hand slipped and he fell hard against the wall.

"Hotch, are you okay?" Reid asked. JJ saw him slump against the wall staring at his bloody, trembling hands and broken fingernails.

"Hotch, can you hear me?" He fell to his knees before JJ could reach him and then the rest of his body hit the floor.

"Hotch! Talk to me! Aaron!" He didn't move. "Aaron!"


	10. Brave

It was 3 a.m. and Penelope Garcia was pacing her warm office, nervously fiddling with a little pink teddy bear. She had programmed her computer to call Derek and Emily's phones simultaneously and constantly. No answer. Again and again her computer gave her the same message. No answer.

"Damn you computer! You are supposed to be my friend! We fight crime together and you're letting me down!" she said. Her voice was cracked and pathetic sounding. Her trash can was overflowing with used tissues, but she was beyond tears now. Each time her computer brought back its unhappy message of no answer, her usually endless supply of hope dwindled even more.

_C'mon Garcie_, said the tired, fragile voice of her positivity. _Their phones will be broken, that's all._

She sat down in her wheelie chair and lined up her colourful stuffed toys just as her phone began to ring.

"JJ! Hey! How are you doing?" she said, trying to sound as sunny and positive as ever.

"Garcia, I need an E.T.A. on that rescue team. More of the tunnels collapsed and Rossi is missing. Hotch has passed out and I can't get him to wake up." The anguish in her friend's voice made Garcia's already sore eyes fill with tears again.

"I'm expecting an update from them any minute," she said. "Is Rossi..." the sentence didn't bear finishing.

"I don't know," JJ said. "We can't hear him or reach him."

"And Hotch?"

"He's showing all the signs of late stage hypovolemic shock," Reid said. "I think he is bleeding internally. If we don't get him out soon, he's going to die." Garcia was well acquainted with the sounds of her friends' voices. In the years before they had used video-calls she learned very quickly how to judge their feelings based on their words and their tone. But she didn't even need to be particularly skilled at that to hear the panic in Reid's voice behind his matter-of-fact manner.

Her phone beeped as someone called in on the other line. It was her eagerly anticipated update on the rescue attempt. She put JJ on hold and answered the call. The conversation with the rescue liaison was quick and unsatisfactory. She switched back to the other line.

"JJ you still there?"

"Yeah."

"The rescue team are at the warehouse..." she said. JJ started speaking but Garcia cut over her. "They aren't coming to get you."

"Why not?"

"They say it's too dangerous. They need to make it safe before they will send anyone down. Otherwise the whole thing could collapse on you."

"How long is that going to take?" Reid asked.

"Several hours."

"We don't have several hours!" JJ said.

"Garcia, I don't think we have more than an hour before Hotch goes in to cardiac arrest," Reid said.

She felt like her heart had leaped in to her throat. An hour? That wasn't long enough. She could just picture Hotch lying on the ground, battered and bruised; JJ and Reid sitting vigil by his side as he slowly faded from the world in a dark, cold cave. That was not the way her Boss Man should die. He had endured too much pain, he was too brave and too good to die like that. He was going to live a long, healthy and happy life, he deserved that much.

"Leave it with me," she said.

She ran to her office door and poked her head out, almost immediately locating the very person she was looking for.

"Chief Strauss, Ma'am," she called. The Pima County cops and the rescue unit had been liaising with Strauss since the mine collapse. If anyone could hurry along the rescue attempt it was her.

"Yes?" Erin Strauss turned around, in all her terrifying and formidable glory, making Garcia feel a little nervous. Despite the many years she had worked in the BAU, she still couldn't shake the anxious knot in her stomach that accompanied every conversation with Strauss. It was like she was in middle school again, standing before the headmistress, knowing she had done nothing wrong but feeling strangely guilty nonetheless.

"May I have a word, Ma'am?" Strauss crossed the bullpen and entered Garcia's office. Close up, she looked as tired and stressed as Garcia felt.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Is that Strauss?" came JJ's voice from the phone. Garcia had forgotten to put the call on hold. _Oops_.

"Miss Jareau?" Strauss asked, approaching the phone.

"Ma'am we need the rescue teams down here now. If we don't get out soon, Hotch is going to die. Rossi may already be dead." Garcia saw Strauss's face fall and what little colour remained in her cheeks drained. Perhaps she hadn't realised quite how bad things were. "Hotch will bleed to death in front of us. Please."

"If the rescue team comes in now without taking the proper precautions, you could all die."

"So you'd rather let Hotch die than take a risk?" JJ asked.

"It's a huge risk, Miss Jareau."

"Well I can tell you with absolute certainty that every single member of this team is willing to take that risk to save Hotch."

"I told you, it's out of my hands." But Garcia could see that she was lying. She didn't need to be a profiler to see the doubt in Strauss's eyes. So, Garcia saw her chance and she grabbed it.

"With respect, Ma'am," Garcia said. "I could hack in to the White House and send a direct order from the President to get my friends out of that mine if I have to."

Strauss rounded on her. "Are you threatening me Miss Garcia?"

"Of course not," she said, keeping her gaze calm and level, "but you should know that I will stop at nothing to make sure my family is safe."

"You would spend the next twenty years of your life in prison."

"And I would sleep well at night knowing that I had done everything in my power to save my team."

Strauss stared at her for a long moment, looking furious. She was clearly trying to work out how serious the threat was. The answer was, deadly. If Strauss wouldn't authorise the rescue, Garcia would do it her way. JJ, Rossi, Reid, Hotch, Prentiss and Morgan would be safe and above ground before any of the frankly sub-par techies at the White House had even noticed there had been a security breach. Strauss took her cell phone from her pocket, keeping her stony eyes trained on Garcia the entire time. Garcia felt a little rush of panic and doubt that made her feel rather warm and made her hands tingle. Was Strauss about to have her fired? Or arrested?

"This is Chief Strauss," she said, "I want my team out of that mine immediately. No. I don't care. I'm not leaving members of my team to die in order to minimise risk. Get them out. All of them. Now." She hung up and turned to the door but just before she left the room, she looked back. "You are skating on very thin ice Miss Garcia. When all of this is over, we are going to be having an extremely serious talk." The door closed and Garcia slumped on to her chair.

"Nicely done, Garcie," she said to herself. "That was really assertive. Now maybe if you could stop hyperventilating that'd be super." She turned back to her desk to speak to JJ and Reid.

"Hear that, guys? They're coming in for you right now. Don't you worry about a thing my beautiful angels!" There was silence. "Guys?" But they were gone.

* * *

><p>"Garcia? Garcia?" JJ said. She looked at her phone just in time to see the low battery symbol melt away in to the now blank screen. "Damn it, she's gone."<p>

"What was she saying? What was she about to say?" Reid asked, grabbing the phone from JJ and mashing the buttons with his thumb.

"I don't know Spencer! I heard as much as you did. Would you stop pressing the buttons? Garcia knows how urgent the situation is. She'll sort something out, I know she will." Even as she spoke, JJ didn't really believe what she was saying. Strauss said they were several hours away from being rescued and several hours was too long.

They did nothing but sit in frightened silence for a long time. Reid kept checking his watch but JJ was scared to ask how long they had until Hotch lost too much blood. She checked under Hotch's shirt where an enormous purple bruise was spreading steadily across his chest and abdomen. The only things that broke up the solid colour of the blood pooling under his skin were the slightly paler scars that covered his torso from his encounter with George Foyet two years before, when the same man who had murdered his wife broke in to his home and stabbed him nine times, as painfully and slowly as he possibly could. It wasn't fair that terrible things kept happening to such a good man. Reid checked his watch again.

"We're going to lose him," he said in a cracked voice.

"It's not over yet," JJ said, shaking her head and silently willing Hotch to keep holding on.

"I'm going to lose him, just like my father and Gideon," he said, beginning to panic. "Everyone just leaves. Everybody leaves me. I can't do it anymore I can't lose Hotch too I don't think I can cope. What are we going to do?"

"We're going to trust Garcia and Strauss to get us out and we're going to stay calm." She grabbed Reid by the shoulder. "Reid look at me." He did as he was told and she did her best to meet his tear-filled eyes with a look of confidence and comfort. "We are going to be okay. Garcia will make sure we're safe."

"But what about Emily and Morgan?" he asked.

"Come on, Spence," she said, dodging the question. "Worrying isn't going to solve anything. Let's just talk about something else."

Several long moments passed before Reid finally broke the silence.

"Who's the father?"

That wasn't exactly the change of subject she had been hoping for. "Does it matter?" she said. This was neither the time nor the place to start that particular conversation.

"I guess not." They lapsed in to silence again as JJ watched Hotch carefully. She put her hand on his forehead again and found that he was still cool and clammy. Her fingers moved to his neck and she felt for his pulse. It felt weaker.

"How far along are you?" asked Reid.

"Twenty weeks tomorrow," she said. "I'm hardly showing this time."

"Twenty weeks..." Reid looked thoughtful. "That doesn't make sense because twenty weeks ago we were on that case in Boston."

"Spencer."

"We spent all our time either in the precinct or the hotel."

"Just drop it would you," she said, cursing Reid's ridiculously precise memory.

"And we had to share rooms again and you - "

"I said drop it, Reid," she snapped, a little more angrily than she had intended. "How long do we have?" she asked. Reid lowered his watch in to the torchlight.

"About fifteen minutes." Now JJ was the one who was about to panic. Fifteen minutes wasn't enough. There was no sound coming from above them, no evidence at all that they were going to be rescued. Hotch was going to die in her arms. Suddenly, a loud rumbling surrounded them and debris began to fall from the sagging ceiling.

"Oh my God. It's collapsing." She reached out for Reid's hand and they both stared wide-eyed at the roof. More banging and rumbling and bigger pieces of rock started to fall on them. There was an almighty crunching sound and the ceiling sagged a little bit more followed by an ear-splitting crack as one of the wooden bolsters begin to bow and splinter. She put her head down on Hotch's chest and Reid put his arm around her and they huddled together, waiting for the beams to give way.

There was a thunderous crash and part of the wall that separated them from Rossi caved in. Dust filled the air and, glancing up through the haze, JJ saw moving shapes. There was a scuffle, someone shouting "Agent, get your ass back here," and then Morgan appeared through the gap.

"Hey," he said, grinning. The ceiling had stopped shaking and JJ sat up, watery-eyed and in shock.

"Where's Emily?" she asked.

"She's fine, she's outside already. You ready to get out of this hellhole?" He caught sight of Hotch on the ground, pale and dying and his smile vanished immediately. He lifted Hotch bodily from the cold floor and Reid pulled one of Hotch's arms over his shoulder as the first of the rescue team squeezed through the gap and approached JJ.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm fine," she said reflexively. "Did you get Rossi?"

"Agent Rossi is already on his way to hospital. He's alive."

The four men who had been sent down in to the mine helped them get Hotch through the now accessible trapdoor where a pair of paramedics were waiting for him. JJ was guided outside and she felt the dusty ground beneath her feet. The early morning light was blinding and for almost a minute, she could see nothing but white light and colourful spots floating in front of her eyes, but she didn't need to be able to see to know that Emily had run toward her and wrapped her arms around her.

"Thank God, JJ. I was so worried! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"Fine." As JJ's eyes became accustomed to the brightness she realised Prentiss didn't look fine at all. "Your face," she said.

"Never mind me," Prentiss said. "How is everyone else?"

"Reid's okay, but he's pretty shaken. Rossi got trapped when more of the tunnel caved in, he's alive but Hotch..." She didn't really know where to start and even when she tried to speak again, she found that she couldn't.

"Oh, JJ."

Now that there wasn't anyone she had to stay strong for, all the fear and panic that had been beating against her chest since the explosion finally burst through her calm facade.

"I can't lose him, Emily, I can't. I don't even know if he's dead or alive and every time I think about it I can't - I can't breathe." She tried to keep speaking but hot tears began to fall from her eyes so instead she walked back in to her friend's arms and clung to her as the remainder of the warehouse collapsed in to the tunnels, leaving nothing but a flat expanse of bent metal and shattered glass.


	11. Truth and Lies

JJ stood in front of the jostling group of reporters. Her hands were trembling, she felt sick, she wasn't sure she would even make it through the press release and was desperately wishing someone else had volunteered to do it. The reporters had been standing outside the hospital ever since they got wind of the rescue team descending in to the mine. They were already impatient and JJ's hesitance made them even more so. Some of them began to shout questions at her which she ignored. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and planted her hands firmly on the edges of her wooden podium.

"Following the disappearance of Mary and Rosie Banks from their home yesterday morning, several Pima County Police Officers and members of the BAU were led to a warehouse just off West Duval Mine Road where we had reason to believe Mary and Rosie Banks were being held. We found them and they are both unhurt and back home. However as you will know, there was an explosion in that warehouse trapping myself and five other FBI agents underground. We have every reason to believe that this explosion was intentional and was caused by the same man guilty of the seven other murders in Green -" JJ couldn't continue talking because there was an explosion of yelling and shouting and shoving.

"Agent Jareau! What do you mean seven _other_ murders? Has there been another death?"

"Agent! Did any of your team die in the blast?"

"As a result of the blast," she began carefully. "Two of our senior agents were seriously injured."

"Agent, did either of them die?" JJ suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. The twenty microphones being thrust in her face made her feel suffocated.

"As a result of his very extensive injuries and internal bleeding..." She had to stop and take a sip of water with trembling hands. "As a result of his injuries, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner died this morning."

"Agent Hotchner, the BAU Unit Chief?"

"Yes."

"Is it true that Robert Fox is the killer?"

"He is one of several suspects." Three more reporters started talking at once. "No more questions," JJ said, stepping back from the podium. She couldn't bear to be up there any longer, she had given all the information she needed to and just wanted to get back to her friends.

* * *

><p>JJ collected her belongings from the OBGYN ward where she had spent the last twelve long, painful hours and headed down to join her friends. Everyone was gathered outside Hotch's room. Rossi was sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and drained, Reid had dark circles under his eyes, Emily had at least twenty stitches down the side of her face and Morgan had one of his arms bandaged from wrist to shoulder, not to mention a spectacular black eye. They looked well and truly defeated.

JJ sat down on a chair beside Rossi who she hadn't seen since they were in the mines. Besides his pallor, a burst lip and some scratches on his hands and face, he seemed remarkably unscathed for someone who had had a cave collapse on him twice, with only a heavily bandaged foot to show for his troubles.

"Hey Rossi, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said quietly. "Just a broken foot."

"That's pretty lucky," she said.

"Tell me about it. Although I do appear to have lost a toe," he said with a small attempt at a smile.

"No way," said Prentiss. She shuffled closer to him to get a look, but her voice was flat and her interest didn't quite reach her eyes. "Which toe?"

"My little toe. It got crushed and they amputated it while they were fixing my foot."

"Evolutionarily speaking, it won't be that long before humans lose the need for their little toes altogether." Reid said, although he continued staring blankly in to space, making him look like some kind of encyclopaedic robot. "A lot of scientists believe humankind will soon only have four toes on each foot."

"Hear that?" Rossi said. "I'm evolutionarily more advanced than all you guys."

"Well no," Reid said, finally looking up, "you're pretty much just... missing a toe." A few of the agents looked amused, but then silence fell and so did their smiles.

JJ looked over to Hotch's room. The blinds were drawn but she could see moving shapes.

"What's happening in there?" she asked.

"Just family phone calls and stuff," Morgan said with a cracked voice, not even bothering to take his head out of his hands. "How was the press conference?"

"Horrible," she said, feeling sick again. "They didn't even care when I told them about Hotch - " she had to pause as her words caught in her throat, "they were more interested in the killer."

"That's reporters for you," Rossi said.

"Any news on the Unsub?"

"He stayed in Green Valley for a little while but he went on the run when he found out some of us survived," said Reid. "He's heading for Mexico by the looks of it."

"He can't get away," Morgan said. "Not after all of this."

JJ couldn't bear waiting any longer. She wanted to see Hotch. She hadn't laid her eyes on him since he was dragged out of the mineshaft. She rose from her seat, walked up to the door and knocked three times. There was no answer so she opened the door a little. Hotch's voice drifted out of the room.

"Yeah, buddy, just remember that whatever you might hear on the news isn't true, okay? Daddy's fine, we're just trying to catch a bad guy. I love you, I'll see you real soon. Bye, Jack." When he had hung up the phone, JJ knocked again to announce herself and pushed the door open.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Hotch said. He was wearing a grey hospital gown with one of his arms strapped firmly across his front. His face was dappled with reddish purple bruises and there was still blood around his ear. All in all, he looked dreadful.

"You should be in bed," she said. He sat down on the edge of the bed obediently and rubbed his eyes. "You really think Fox is going to come back?" she asked.

"He's a narcissist. He won't be able to resist putting himself in the middle of the action, especially now he think's I'm dead. And telling the press that he was only one of several suspects will mean he has so come back to make sure he gets credit for his actions."

JJ just nodded. Seeing Hotch standing there was almost overwhelming. Giving the press conference and announcing his death had felt far too real. She had been living one of her worst nightmares, the nightmares that had plagued her ever since she started working at the BAU, that one day she would have to tell the world that someone she loved was dead.

"Don't ever ask me to do anything like that again," she said.

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his brow creasing.

"I'm not upset," she said, but her voice and expression betrayed her. She felt tears prick at her eyes and she glanced up at the ceiling. In the few seconds that she averted her gaze, Hotch had stepped forward and pulled her in to his arms. The feeling of his face pressed against her hair; his one free arm wrapped protectively around her back; the warmth radiating from him was more comforting to her than she would ever be able to explain. So she clung to him for much longer than she should because she hadn't felt so safe in months.

* * *

><p>"Okay, is everyone clear on what they are doing?" Hotch said. Everyone nodded their assent. On doctors' orders, Hotch was back in bed and Rossi was sitting with his foot elevated. "The Pima County cops and SWAT team should be here soon, they will be dressed as doctors or nurses and they will all be armed. We should be able to take Fox out ourselves but we will have the cops as backup."<p>

There was a knock at the door and Deputy Commander Watts came in, dressed in navy blue scrubs.

"Hey, it's Doctor Watson," Prentiss joked, but then she saw the cuts and bruises that covered his skin. "Are you okay?"

"Oh," Watts said, looking down at his blotchy, bandaged arms. "I'm okay, I was near the warehouse entrance when it came down. It's just a few scratches."

"What's the news on Fox?" asked Hotch.

"Uniforms have just spotted him driving through Rio Rico. He'll be back here in about half an hour," he said. "Glad you're all okay," he added, looping a stethoscope around his neck before backing out of the room.

"Remind me why we can't just shoot the bastard the second he steps out of his car," Morgan asked.

"Once Fox is on the ward, he'll be unknowingly outnumbered fifteen-to-one and he'll have nowhere to run. If we try anything out in the open there's a chance he could still get away. This is the safest way to take him down and he'll walk right in to it," Hotch said.

"I just can't wait for this to be over," Prentiss said.

Hotch shifted his position in the bed, feeling rather uncomfortable, and if he was honest, a little emasculated at being the only one lying in bed.

"Okay, Reid, Prentiss and Rossi, stay outside the room and stay hidden. Morgan, I want you in here with me. JJ, I want you to stay with the evacuated patients and staff upstairs," he said. She turned to him with a look of surprise that quickly darkened to one of complete irritation.

"Seriously? You're benching me?"

"I'm asking you to keep an eye on the patients."

"But there are already cops up there. I'm pregnant, Hotch, not an invalid."

"JJ, please."

"No, I'm staying here. I want to catch this guy as much as you do."

"As your Unit Chief I am asking you to go upstairs!" Hotch immediately wished he could take the words back. He could almost feel the rest of his team wishing the same thing.

"As my Unit Chief? Really? You're playing the Unit Chief card?"

"JJ -"

"Forget it," she said. "Just forget it," and she stormed from the room and headed to the stairs.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Rossi said sagely.

"Yeah, and you would know," Morgan said.

"Watch it, you little punk," Rossi said, throwing him a good-humoured glare.

"What are you going to do about it Limpy?"

"I'll even up that black eye for you."

"Bring it!" Morgan said, smirking.

"Guys," Hotch said. "Fox will be back here in thirty minutes, we don't have time for games." He saw Morgan and Rossi exchange a glance and he knew he was being unfair. They had every right to be happy but Hotch wouldn't be content until the Unsub was in their custody. The fact that he had just inadvertently insulted JJ didn't help his mood either.

* * *

><p>They had just taken their positions in the ward when the door swung open and Robert Fox rushed in. Hotch lay back and closed his eyes, entirely relaxing his body and hoping that he didn't do something stupid like move his eyes or breathe and ruin the entire operation.<p>

"I heard about Aaron Hotchner," Fox said, managing to sound convincingly sad despite his breathlessness. "Is he still here? I wanted to... say goodbye."

"Are you a relative?" asked Watts, artfully scribbling on a clipboard.

"A close friend." There was a short pause and then they heard his footsteps get louder as he entered Hotch's room. Hotch heard Fox make a little noise of pleasure, just inches from his ear, and felt his warm breath on his skin.

"Poor Agent Hotchner," he breathed, the excitement in his voice unmistakeable. "How dreadful it must have been for you to be buried underground. So dark, so cramped." He wandered around the bed and Hotch held his breath as he felt Fox's sleeve brush against the side of the bed. "Now you know how I felt when I was thrown in to a closet for _days_, I - "

"Bobby?" Hotch tensed when he heard a voice he was not expecting. Commander Holmes had entered the room, Hotch heard him walk a few paces and stop at the end of the bed.

"You," Fox said, moving away from Hotch's bedside and towards the new arrival. Hotch allowed himself a silent, shaky breath.

"Why did you do it, Bobby?" Holmes asked. Hotch felt his palms begin to sweat. This wasn't planned, so much could go wrong…

"Well it got your attention, didn't it?" Fox said, his voice snide. "You know, no one even batted an eyelid when I abducted and murdered three prostitutes, three young women and I just took them and buried them and no one cared. That's why I had to move on to the Law student and that family with their pretty little daughter. That's when people really started to pay attention." Hotch opened his eyes minutely, looking down to the two men standing a few feet apart, their eyes locked on one another. "That's getting to be a habit of yours, isn't it, Officer Holmes? Spending all your time running around after the attractive, wealthy, middle-classes and ignoring everybody else."

"I know I should have done more," Holmes said. "I should have done so much more for you, but all these people didn't deserve to die. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

"This isn't about blame," he said. "It's about making everyone feel what I felt, the fear, the darkness, the loneliness. How many times have you looked at pictures of my victims? Those parents, the little girl, the student. How many times have you looked at their young, pretty, dead bodies and imagined what it must have felt like for them to die terrified? Dozens of times. Maybe even hundreds. But no one ever did that for me, no one gives a damn when you're still alive."

"You're wrong," Holmes said, his voice growing desperate. "I cared, Bobby."

"Spare me the self-indulgent sympathy," he said. "No one cared, no one even gave me a second thought, but they will now."

"Please, Bobby, don't make this any worse. Let me help."

"Stop calling me that," he snapped. "Little Bobby Fox is long gone, you made sure of that. Am I worthy of a second thought now, _Commander_?" he spat out the last word like it was poison. "Now that I have eight bodies at my feet? Do you care now? Maybe I'll kill the Sheriff next." He was growing more agitated. "Then my father. Oh, you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that one. I'll go down in history as the Dark Desert Killer - "

"Alright, that's enough," said Morgan, slamming open the closet door. "Get your hands up, Fox." He turned and looked at Morgan, quite calmly.

"Nice black eye," he said. "Did I do that?"

"I said get your hands up." Reid, Rossi, and Prentiss entered the room now, pointing their guns at him. Again, Fox remained perfectly calm. He looked at Prentiss standing in the doorway, with the long cut on her face and the bruises beginning to form along her jaw, and a little smile crossed his face.

Hotch opened his eyes, pulled his gun out from under him and sat up.

"He said get your hands up," Hotch said. Fox whipped around, his arrogance vanishing at last.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to kill one of us," Rossi said. The surprised expression on Fox's waxy, unshaven face became one of fury as he realised that his entire plan to kill them had failed. Then, as quickly as his mood changed, he became absolutely calm again, as he moved his hand to his coat pocket.

"Bobby, don't," Holmes said, reaching out to the young man, but a pair of arms pulled him back as Watts appeared from the hallway.

"Get your hands out of your pockets, Fox!" Prentiss said.

"Hands in the air, now!" Morgan said.

"Don't do it!"

"Bobby!" Holmes yelled, but Watts dragged him from the room as Fox clenched his hand in his pocket and began to pull something out. Something black and metal came in to view. Morgan was the first to fire his gun and Rossi was just a split second behind. Blood spattered the white hospital walls as two bullets caught Fox in the chest, and he was dead before he hit the floor. His hand fell from his pocket, wrapped around nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Out in the hallway, Commander Holmes fell to his knees.


	12. The Calm Before the Storm

Hotch sat in his bed feeling restless with no one to talk to. The manager from the Green Valley Inn had personally dropped off their go-bags at the hospital, not without giving Hotch her best wishes, an overly eager smile and her phone number. The rest of the team had left to get washed and changed. Even Rossi had been allowed out of bed and he had hobbled off to get cleaned up, although, in fairness, Hotch had been the only one to have major abdominal surgery. He looked out on to the ward and watched the real doctors and nurses trickle back in to replace their counterfeit duplicates while the cops collected their guns and headed off the ward. When Hotch looked back to the door, he saw JJ standing there leaning against the doorframe in a fresh set of clothes, her hair dust-free and back to its usual vibrant blonde.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"How did it go with Robert Fox?" she asked, entering the room and sitting on the end of his bed.

"Suicide by cop," he said. JJ looked over to the far wall and the floor beneath it which were both still damp with cleaning fluid.

"Yeah, I heard the gunshots." She glanced over to him, as though gauging his mood before continuing. "I would have seen all the action if my Unit Chief hadn't sent me upstairs." Hotch frowned, unsure how irritated she was. He didn't regret ordering her away, but he could have been more tactful about it.

"I've heard your Unit Chief can be a bit of an ass," he said. She glanced away, poorly disguising a smile as he foiled her attempts at being annoyed.

"He's not an ass, really," she said. "He's a good man and he was only trying to keep me safe…" She paused for a moment. "Listen, Hotch - " The door was pushed open and Rossi entered, followed by a nurse. Hotch felt a rush of annoyance. He couldn't seem to have an entire conversation with JJ without someone interrupting.

"There we are Agent Rossi, I need you to hop in to bed and keep that foot elevated. And Agent Hotchner," the nurse said, "I need to take a few more blood samples from you." Hotch barely registered her words, he was still watching JJ intently, waiting for her to finish what she was saying but she seemed to have changed her mind.

"Look, I'll come back later," JJ said. Hotch watched her hurry out of the room, with an unusual feeling of worry and disappointment.

JJ sat on a plastic seat out of sight of Hotch's room feeling a headache build in her temples. With her eyes shut, she felt Emily sit next to her and she could sense her watching her. Emily had found out about her pregnancy and spent the last hour pestering her for information and clearly she wasn't finished yet.

"Well?" Prentiss asked.

"I didn't tell him."

"JJ!"

"I was interrupted!" JJ opened her eyes and looked at Emily who was looking a little skeptical. "Rossi came back before I could tell him." A doctor appeared a few feet away from them at the coffee machine and JJ pulled Emily in to the empty room behind them, not wishing to be overheard.

"Does Hotch know it's his baby?" Emily asked.

"He must. It's not like I've been sleeping around since Will left. It was just him. It's always been him."

"So what's wrong?"

"Well, he's obviously going to do the proper thing and offer to support me and the baby but I don't just want his support. I want to be with him," she said, trying and failing to keep a note of desperate panic from her voice.

"Then tell him," said Emily. JJ couldn't help but feel worried. It had been a long time since she had felt comfortable laying her feelings bare to anyone.

"He wants the same thing," Emily pressed.

"How can you know that?"

"Because he loves you, JJ. You can see it every time he looks at you."

"No he doesn't," JJ said.

"Yes I do."

Hotch was standing in the doorway behind JJ, leaning heavily on the door handle and looking at her with such intensity that it almost knocked the breath out of her.

"I'll leave you guys to it," Emily said, flashing JJ a knowing smile as she left.

"Hotch…"

"So, we're having a baby," he said pushing the door shut and transferring his weight on to the arm of a chair.

"Yeah," she breathed, trying to measure his reaction.

"You could have told me sooner," he said. His expression barely changed but JJ could see a little sorrow in his eyes.

"I know, I wish I had told you as soon as I found out but I was scared and confused and I didn't know what you would think."

"This is pretty scary for me too, you know," he said. He finally managed to stand upright and he closed the gap between them. She wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could hold him closer but scared she would hurt him. Hotch put his one free arm around her and pulled her tightly against him regardless.

"I want us to be family, JJ," he said, his voice muffled by her hair. The feeling of relief was immense as though her entire body had been tensed up for the last five months, like she had been holding her breath worrying about Hotch's reaction and now she could finally breathe.

"Me too."

"Me and you, Jack and Henry and the baby. We'll make it work."

"I know." Hotch kissed the top of her head and put his hand on the little bump that was barely visible under her loose blouse.

"When are you due?"

"April 10th."

"And he's okay?" Hotch asked.

"Totally fine," she said. "You think it's a 'he'?"

"I don't know. Do you know?" he asked.

"I don't know either. I got a scan earlier but I wanted us to find out together." She pulled out a piece of paper on which the doctor had written down the gender of the baby and suddenly realised that she was quite nervous. She shifted the paper between her fingers for a moment and felt her hands get a little sweaty. "I can't do it," she said, handing the paper quickly to Hotch as if it were radioactive. "You look." Hotch looked like he might collapse any minute and JJ made a mental note to get him straight back in to bed as soon as they were done. He opened the piece of paper slowly. Once it was unfolded, JJ really thought he was going to pass out until a bright smile crossed his face.

"How do you feel about having a daughter?"

* * *

><p>"Prentiss, you said you would do it," Morgan said.<p>

"I know but -"

"No buts Scarface, get your ass in there." Morgan grinned as he shoved Prentiss in to the room where Rossi was sitting reading a book. They had made a deal and she was going to hold up her end whether she liked it or not.

"Hey, Rossi," she said.

"Hey," he said, lowering his book. She sat on his bed and, although she was disguising it well, Morgan could practically feel the embarrassment radiating from her.

"Okay, listen," she said. "I made a deal with Morgan down in the mines when, frankly, I assumed I was going to die, so please don't read anything to in to this."

"I won't," he said. He looked unfazed but Morgan thought he could see the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"We were comparing how many people we had slept with, and we both assumed the other person was a little more promiscuous than they really were..."

"You want to know if I really do live up to my reputation," he said with a laugh, putting two and two together. He looked as though he was contemplating telling her for a moment but the he sighed. "I would tell you, Emily, really I would, but a true gentleman never reveals that kind of thing."

Prentiss laughed. "Well, I tried! I made good on my dare. You want to get a coffee, Derek?"

"Sure," he said. Prentiss walked out first and as soon as she was out of earshot, Rossi spoke.

"Want to know the truth?"

"Hit me," Morgan said.

"I lost count a decade ago."


	13. Copycat

JJ and Prentiss sat side by side outside Hotch's room, both of them dozing off occasionally. The ward was very quiet, only a few small lamps lit the otherwise dark walls. It was still relatively early in the evening but it had been completely dark outside for almost an hour.

"Why didn't you tell me Will was having an affair?" Prentiss asked suddenly.

"Hm?" JJ said, lifting her head from Emily's shoulder, taking a moment to register what she had said. "I don't know… I wasn't planning on telling anyone, not for a while anyway," she said, feeling slightly guilty even though Emily's tone was not accusatory. "But Hotch walked in on me crying and he wouldn't let me go until I told him what was wrong." JJ stretched and yawned and sat up properly. Emily hadn't said anything else but JJ felt the need to keep explaining herself. "It was bad enough admitting it to one person, I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone else."

"I could have helped, you know. Or alternatively I could have had him killed."

JJ smiled. "I know. It wasn't you, I was just too embarrassed."

"So that's how you and Hotch ended up getting together?" Prentiss asked. There was a loud thump and a woman's voice came through the door along with the sounds of many plastic bags and the scrape of a suitcase.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell her the story without me!"

"Garcia?!" JJ and Prentiss stood up to greet their unexpected friend as she bustled through the door, arms laden with more luggage than she could possibly need.

"I brought your spare go-bags," she said, beaming widely. "And some snacks and gifts." She dumped the bags on the floor and pulled them both in to a hug. "Oh, I was so worried about both of you! I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you!"

"What are you doing here?" JJ asked, laughing.

"Well it's not like you're going to be working any cases for a few days so I wasn't really needed in Quantico, but I couldn't just sit at home and not see your lovely faces so I acquired myself a seat on the first flight to Arizona and came to see you!"

"You 'acquired' a seat?" Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The details don't matter," Garcia said, waving a sparkling hand. But JJ and Prentiss exchanged the same doubtful glance.

"What aren't you telling us?" Emily asked. Garcia looked at them both for a minute and her luminous façade slipped ever so slightly.

"Curse you profilers," she grumbled, starting to fiddle with her chunky purple necklace. "I've been suspended for two weeks, pending an investigation in to my suitability for the Bureau," she said as though reciting it from an official document. JJ's mouth fell open.

"What did you do?!" Prentiss asked.

"I may have threatened Strauss..." she said. Both women stared at Garcia, shocked and impressed in equal measures. "Oh and I may have also threatened national security," she added, with another casual wave of her hand. "Like I said, the details don't matter."

"You got yourself in to all that trouble to get us out of the mine?" JJ asked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with disbelief and gratitude. Garcia shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance, but her eyes grew a little watery.

"Of course. I'd do anything for you guys."

"Hotch owes his life to you," JJ said. "We all do."

"Speaking of Hotch," Garcia said, clearing her throat and reapplying her vibrant smile, "tell me _everything_!"

"There's not much to tell," JJ said, but Prentiss and Garcia were both staring at her, excited and expectant. JJ took a deep breath and wondered where to start. "So I guess over the past six or seven months we had been spending a lot more time together. Hotch was the only one who knew about Will's affair so whenever I needed to talk to someone, I talked to him."

"If this wasn't such a darn romantic situation, I'd be a little offended that you didn't tell me," Garcia said. "But continue, continue!"

"At first we just chatted in his office, then we started going to dinner sometimes, and we would meet up for playdates with the kids. Then we went out to Boston for that school-shooter case and Hotch and I had to share a hotel room. The night we caught the Unsub, everyone went out for drinks," JJ said, addressing Garcia now since she had not accompanied them on the case. "We had a few drinks and everyone went back to the hotel and… one thing just led to another I guess."

Prentiss smiled and Garcia made a high-pitched noise of excitement. "But you had totally had feelings for him before that night, right?"

"Yeah," JJ admitted. "We had been seeing so much of each other and then one day I just looked at him and realised that I had fallen for him." She smiled a little as the memory came to the forefront of her mind.

_"Jack, please don't go far!" Hotch called, keeping a close eye on his son and he ran in to the middle of the park, a football tucked under his arm and Henry scurrying after him as fast as his little legs could manage. The sun was warm on JJ's neck and she could smell the cut grass. Her eyes instinctively followed Henry wherever he went and she watched him run after Jack who, it would seem, was his new idol. In his haste, Henry tripped over his own feet and landed on his hands and knees. JJ was about to go and pick him up before he started to cry. He always cried when he fell, not because he was hurt but mostly due to the shock of suddenly crashing to the ground. But before she could start hurrying towards her son, Hotch took her by the hand._

_"Give it a minute," he said. JJ watched for a moment longer and saw Jack realise what had happened. He ran up to her son and pulled him to his feet, brushed the grass from Henry's knees, took his hand and started showing him how to kick a football. Henry didn't even shed a tear._

_"That's one heck of a kid you've got there," she said, looking up at him, a rare smile on his face and JJ felt her heart hammer in her chest. "You must be proud."_

_"Very," Hotch said, putting his arm around her. "He loves Henry, he thinks the world of him. And so do I."_

_"That makes three of us," JJ said, slipping her arm around Hotch's waist and leaning her head on his arm. A light breeze blew through the trees, bringing with it the smells of summer and some relief from the warm sun. JJ let out a sigh._

_"How are you doing?" Hotch asked._

_"I'm great," JJ said, and for the first time in weeks, she really meant it. She watched the boys run and chase each other, both of them squealing with laughter."Hey, do you want to take them for ice cream?" she asked._

_"Sounds great," he said and then he leaned down and kissed her. It took them both a few moments to realise what had just happened. It had felt entirely natural, completely normal as if they had been a couple for years, it hadn't felt like their first kiss. Hotch laughed a little nervously._

_"Sorry," he said._

_"Don't apologise." JJ said, unable to stop smiling._

_"Good, because I'm not sorry." She looked at him for a moment longer, marvelling at this relaxed and carefree side of Hotch that he kept so carefully hidden, and she wished the day didn't have to end._

_"Ice cream then," she said at last, pulling her gaze away from Hotch._

_"Ice cream," he said. She slipped her hand in to his and they walked across the field to get their kids._

The sound of a laugh brought her back to reality. Garcia and Emily were staring at her and she had the uncomfortable feeling that one of them had just asked her a question and she had no idea what they had said.

"Um… what?" she asked.

"I was asking…" Prentiss said with a mischievous glint in her eye, "how was it?"

"How was what?" JJ asked, pretending not to understand the question.

"You know! How was it? Your night in Boston," Garcia pressed, making JJ a little uncomfortable.

"Come on JJ, you didn't tell us about Will or Hotch! You owe us this much!"

"Emotional blackmail," JJ said. "Nice."

"I bet he's great in bed," Garcia said, so caught up in the romance that she was clearly forgetting that this was her boss she was talking about. "He's so kind and caring in person, I'm sure that translates in to the boudoir…"

"Garcia!" JJ said, feeling her face turn redder.

"But I bet you he can rattle a headboard too," Prentiss said, staring off in to space. "Like a screen door in a hurricane…" she added dreamily.

"Guys seriously!" JJ said.

"We're only messing with you," Emily said, nudging her playfully. "I'm really happy for you."

"Me too," Garcia said. "Now, my second order of business, where is my enormous hunk of chocolatey goodness?"

"He's down in the cafeteria with Reid," JJ said.

"I will see you guys later," she said, grinning and hurrying off to find her favourite man, completely abandoning the seven or eight pieces of luggage she had brought with her. JJ and Emily fell in to exhausted silence once again and JJ was pleased to finally feel the heat in her cheeks begin to dissipate.

"So, you and Deputy Commander Watts," JJ said slyly, feeling like a little revenge was in order. Emily laughed.

"Yeah, he seems nice."

"He likes you."

"I seriously doubt that."

"You should ask him out."

"And say what? Hey, Deputy, do you want to travel two and a half thousand miles to go out for a drink sometime?"

"Well, we're going to be in Arizona for another few days at least," JJ said. "Go on. Bring your number up to an even twelve."

"Morgan told you?!"

"Morgan told everyone," JJ said.

"I'm going to kill him," Emily said, standing up and JJ wasn't entirely convinced that she was joking.

"You can kill him later," she said, pulling her friend back down on the chair. "You guys seem to be pretty close lately," she added and Prentiss gave a small, very un-Prentiss like smile, gazing down at her leather boots.

"I guess," she said.

"Are you sleeping with Morgan?" JJ asked, completely caught off guard by Emily's sudden coyness.

"No!" she said, snapping her head back up. "Of course not! No! Definitely not."

"But you want to," JJ said.

"An inter-office romance?" she asked, looking skeptical. "No offence, JJ, but isn't it all a bit… messy?"

"Relax," JJ said, smiling. "Everybody's doing it."

* * *

><p>Later that night, Rossi was the only person still awake, making himself as uncomfortable as possible to stop him falling asleep and disturbing the rest of the team with his snoring. So he had spent the evening time people-watching, which became distinctly less interesting when all the people he was watching fell asleep, but it was something.<p>

The entire team was crammed in to his and Hotch's room where they had spent the evening talking and laughing and sharing stories. The memory of their ordeal still hung over each of them, but being together was enough to keep everyone smiling, especially since Garcia had arrived. She had told them the story of threatening Strauss at least four times now, and she had become less modest and more detailed with every retelling.

Prentiss had been the first to fall asleep, squashed on to a little chair beside Morgan. In true slumber-party style, Morgan had taken the liberty of drawing a long and twirly moustache on to the uninjured side of her face without so much as disturbing her, before falling asleep with his arm draped over Garcia who was asleep on his other side. Reid was out-cold beside Rossi, with his skinny limbs hanging off every edge of his armchair. JJ had fallen asleep next, squashed on to the little hospital bed beside Hotch.

Rossi saw Hotch stir in the small hours of the morning. He had been woken by the pain in his shoulder, not that he would admit it, but Rossi could see it in his face.

"Hey," Rossi said.

"Hey. Can't sleep?" Hotch asked quietly.

"Nope."

"What's up?"

"I just can't help thinking that maybe this was all…"

"Don't say it Rossi," Morgan mumbled, turning over in his chair, only half-awake.

"A little too easy?" Hotch finished. Morgan grumbled his annoyance, but fell back asleep a second later.

"Yeah," Rossi said, reluctantly, looking almost guilty for even thinking it.

Hotch sighed. "I know it doesn't always feel like a win when the Unsub walks straight in to our hands, but Robert Fox was the killer, and now he's dead."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rossi said, assuring himself as much as Hotch. "But I just can't shake the feeling, y'know?" Hotch mumbled his agreement and they sat in tired silence for a few moments while Rossi watched Hotch glance at JJ from time to time, his forehead creased in a little frown.

"Go on then," Rossi said. Hotch looked confused.

"Go on what?"

"This is usually the part where you tell me how worried you are about not being good enough, and that you don't think you'll be enough for JJ and you'll mess your relationship up et cetera, et cetera," Rossi said. Hotch smiled and shook his head a little.

"Sure, that still terrifies me," he said. "But I'm just taking it one day at a time." He looked back down at JJ with one of her arms lying across his chest and her fair hair falling over her eyes and he smiled. "Something tells me we're going to be fine."

Rossi was surprised by Hotch's positive outlook and wondered how much of it was genuine and how much of it was just for show. "That's good to hear. I hate seeing you torture yourself over things you can't change."

"Like the mine collapse?" Hotch asked, his eyes darkening almost immediately.

"Yeah."

"That _was_ my fault, Dave. All of it -" Rossi cut him off with a stern don't-argue-with-me look and Hotch fell silent. Rossi smiled inwardly as he recalled how many times he had used that look on Hotch in his younger years, two decades ago. Two decades, six published books, countless Unsubs caught, thousands of cases closed but the one thing he was most proud of was the man lying in front of him, the best profiler he had ever met, the strongest and bravest man he knew, battered and broken and doing his best to hide it.

"You and JJ are going to be great," Rossi said.

"I hope so. It scares me, you know... how much I love her. I feel like I'm setting myself up for a fall."

"I get the feeling she'll catch you if you do."

Just then, the door to Hotch's busy little room flew open and slammed against the wall. Every single agent jolted awake. Morgan and Prentiss reflexively reached for their guns, bleary-eyed but alert. Deputy Commander Watts was standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the lights of the ward. He was pale and out of breath.

"The Sheriff is dead," he said.

"What happened?" Hotch asked.

"He was buried alive last night."

"We've got a copycat," Reid said.

Prentiss groaned. "It's not over," she said.

"What did I tell you?" Rossi said, looking over at Hotch. "It was too easy."


	14. Kidnap

Emily sat surveying Spencer Reid. thinking he looked even skinnier than usual in his casual clothes instead of his cords and sweater vest. In fact, everyone looked different out of their work clothes, especially Hotch who was so rarely seen out of a suit but was now wearing sweatpants and t-shirt after refusing point-blank to wear a hospital gown for the third day. The only people who still looked remotely official were the few Pima County officers and detectives who were squashed in to the little hospital room along with the seven members of the BAU.

"Who would want to kill the Sheriff?" Reid asked.

"I can think of a few people," came a voice from the door, and a second later, Holmes appeared in the room, badge and gun still missing. Prentiss studied him as he stood at the foot of the hospital bed, his perpetual scowl even more pronounced than usual. He was a hard man to read, and she would be lying if she said she didn't consider him a suspect, especially after his reckless behaviour the day before. Watts shot Holmes a warning look.

"What he means is half the criminals in Pima County will have a grudge against the Sheriff. He's put a lot of people away in his time." Compared to Holmes, Watts was a profiler's dream come true. Easy to read and honest, it was clear that he had a lot of respect for the Sheriff and he had taken the news of his death hard. Watts caught her eye and gave her a small, sad smile.

"Let's start by looking in to anyone in the county who was arrested by the Sheriff for murder, attempted murder, or GBH," Hotch said to the gathered officers. "And look for people who have been released from prison recently. There was no hesitance in this murder, we are almost certainly looking for someone who is comfortable with violence. It's a long shot but we need to try and narrow this down before the copycat kills again." Holmes and Watts left with the rest of the police officers, but once they were out of the room, Watts grabbed Holmes by the sleeve.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "You can't just keep walking in here and joining the investigation whenever you please, you quit remember? And while I'm at it, you can't just throw your career away every time you get pissed off either."

"I'm not throwing my career away," Holmes said.

"Really? Because who ever ends up as the next Sheriff isn't going to see it like that. You handed in your badge, so if Falconer had started the paperwork for your resignation before he died, you won't have a job to go back to."

"I didn't exactly expect him to die," Holmes said drily.

"So you just threw a bitch fit in his office for the sake of a little drama? Was your day not quite interesting enough so you thought you'd throw a cop-show tantrum to keep the viewers watching over the ad break?"

Holmes grabbed Watts by the upper arms, and looked down at him intently. Watts fell silent but his jaw was still clenched.

'I'm sorry," Holmes said, and it was clear that he wasn't just talking about his resignation. "I'm so sorry." Watts pulled himself from Holmes's grip.

"I'll meet you back at the Sheriff's Office," he said. Holmes looked like he wanted to say something else but Watts's stony look kept him quiet, so he closed his mouth again and walked from the ward, out of view of the BAU, who had been watching the conversation unfold through the glass. Watts continued to stand there, apparently lost in thought.

"Is it just me, or - " Prentiss started.

"There's something off about Holmes?" Morgan finished.

"So it's not just me?" she said.

"He had a lot of anger towards the Sheriff, he even said that he held him responsible for Robert Fox's actions."

"Do you think he could have killed Falconer?" she asked.

"I don't think so," said Reid.

"I think it's a possibility," said Morgan.

"I'm not so sure," Hotch said.

"Rossi?" Prentiss asked, looking to the older agent.

"You're a talented profiler, Emily," he said. "I think you'd be stupid not to follow your hunch. I just hope you're proved wrong."

"Me too," she said, looking out at Watts who was now sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway, staring at the ward door.

"Just be careful," Hotch said. "They've all lost a friend today."

Prentiss nodded and left Hotch's room to sit down beside Deputy Commander Watts. She had to tap him twice on the arm before he even realised she was there.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, his eyes not quite focussed on her.

"Listen, I know this isn't a good time but - "

"You want to talk to me about Commander Holmes," he said. Prentiss nodded apologetically. "He had nothing to do with this, Agent Prentiss."

"It's still something we have to consider," she said.

"Well you're wrong," said Watts, more firmly, his gaze meeting hers properly at last. "He would never hurt the Sheriff, no matter how angry he was. And the truth is, he's not even angry at the Sheriff, he's angry at himself for letting Jacob Fox abuse his son for all those years."

"But it wasn't his fault," Prentiss said.

"I know that, you know that, but _he_ doesn't." Watts sighed, seeming to search for the right words to convince Prentiss of his partner's innocence. "Agent, when I joined the Sheriff's Office back in '93, Holmes had no one. He had no friends and he hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the office for almost a year. Every day he came to work, did his job and went home. By himself. His entire life revolved around work and keeping other people safe. It took me two years to convince him just to have drink with me, to have contact with someone outside of the four walls of the office. He even started patching things up with Sheriff Falconer after a while…" Watts stopped to take a breath. "He doesn't trust easily so I can understand why you might think he's evasive and cold, because I did too when I met him, but I can promise you he's a good man."

"Okay," Prentiss said, feeling suddenly a little guilty for questioning her newfound friend, but that didn't stop her from carrying on. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Do you know where Commander Holmes was between 11 and 2 last night?"

"He was with me," Watts said, standing up abruptly. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"Of course," Prentiss said, watching the Deputy Commander follow in Holmes's footsteps off the ward and towards the elevators.

"Well?" asked Morgan when she re-entered Hotch's room.

"Watts speaks very highly of him," she said. "He was pretty convincing, and he says that he and Holmes were together last night during the murder period."

"But what do you think?" JJ asked, apparently sensing her friend's uncertainty.

"I don't know," she said with a long sigh. "Holmes makes sense as a suspect; he's isolated, he's got motive but I can't put my finger on it… he just doesn't seem… murder-y."

"Murder-y?" Morgan echoed with a little smirk. "They teach you that at Yale?"

"Give me a break, Morgan," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm really tired."

While they had been talking, Garcia had pulled her laptop out of her bright yellow bag and opened it up.

"I'll start working on the other possible suspects," she said.

"Absolutely not," Hotch said abruptly. "Call Kevin and have him do it."

"But sir - "

"No buts, Garcia, you can't access FBI files while you're suspended. Your career is already on the line and I'm not going to let you jeopardise it further." Garcia looked like she might argue for a moment but instead she did as she was told.

A second later, she had hung up the phone with Kevin, looking crestfallen. "I hate not being able to do anything." Morgan put his arm around her and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"You saved our lives, Baby Girl. You've done plenty already."

"I don't regret what I did, not for one single second," she said earnestly, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, "but I don't want to lose my job either. I can't imagine not seeing your beautiful faces every day!"

"I promise you, angel, if you get fired I'm quitting too, and I'll make Strauss sorry she ever messed with my girl." As soon as Morgan said that, Prentiss had an idea.

"What if this is about revenge?" she asked.

"You just said you didn't think Holmes was guilty," said Morgan.

"No, no, not revenge for the other victims, revenge for Robert Fox."

"Who would want to avenge his death?" JJ asked. "Fox was a total loner, he had no one."

"But what about his father, Jacob?" Prentiss said. "He still lives in Green Valley."

"183 West Cedro Drive," Reid said.

"And he has a long history of violence," Prentiss added.

"You think he could have killed the Sheriff?" Rossi asked.

"According to Holmes the Sheriff and Jacob Fox were friends for years, right?" Prentiss said. "Jacob might have been a terrible father but if you found out that your best friend had been involved in the death of your son, I bet you'd be pretty damn angry, no matter how rocky the father-son relationship had been in the past."

"It's a possibility," Hotch said. "Prentiss, you go to his house and talk to him. Morgan, Reid and Garcia, go back to the Sheriff's department and work on a preliminary suspect list. And don't even think about accessing the FBI database," he added. He looked at Rossi for a moment, taking in his bruised skin and plastered leg. "Do you want to stay here, Rossi?"

"No, I'll go to the Sheriff's department. I'll be fine if I can sit down."

"You're getting old, Rossi," said Morgan.

"Say that again and I'll smack you," said Rossi.

"Okay," said Hotch, with a faint smile. "JJ, you go with Prentiss to Jacob Fox's house and bring him in."

Emily was pleased that Hotch had selected JJ to accompany her, he had clearly learned that JJ didn't appreciate being wrapped in cotton wool, and it also meant that Emily would have plenty of time to find out more about the secret life her friend had been leading for the past six months.

* * *

><p>A little less than an hour later, they arrived at Jacob Fox's house, which bore an uncanny resemblance to his son's. The painted door was blistered and chipped and the tall weeds in the small front yard were creeping up on to the porch, and in the failing light of the evening, they looked like long claws reaching up from underneath the house. It was completely out of place in amongst the well-kept homes either side. Prentiss laid her fingers on her gun reflexively, as though checking it was still there as she remembered the long list of assault charges that Jacob had accumulated over the past few years, along with a substantial drinking problem. JJ rapped loudly on the door.<p>

"Jacob Fox? FBI." There was complete silence from inside. JJ waited a few moments and hammered on the door again. "Jacob Fox! This is the FBI, we need to talk to you."

Prentiss hopped down from the porch, avoiding the cracked and splintered steps and pressed her face up to one of the filthy windows. She caught a glimpse of her own reflection and frowned at the ugly red cut along her cheek before refocussing her eyes to investigate the inside of the house. It was as neglected as the outside and it was hard to tell if someone even lived there at all. Bottles and broken furniture littered the floor and she was pretty sure there was a rat moving around under the coffee table. Still squinting in to the living room, Prentiss heard JJ walk across the porch.

"Emily." Something was wrong, that one word was all she needed to hear and her hand flew to her gun as she whipped around to face JJ. She was still standing on the porch but it wasn't her footsteps that Emily had heard. Her blue eyes were wide with fear as the shadowy shape of a man stood behind her, his arm around her neck and his gun pointed to her head.

"Put your gun down," Jacob Fox said quietly. His face was almost entirely hidden as he used JJ as a shield but Emily could make out his thin jaw and sunken eyes through the darkness.

"How about we both put our guns down," Emily said. "We just want to talk."

"Put your gun down on the porch or I shoot her," he said, thrusting the gun harder in to JJ's forehead. Emily obeyed this time, slowly placing the gun down on the rotting planks. "And your cell phone," Jacob added.

"Let's just stay calm," she said as she dropped the phone as well and Jacob stepped forward and crushed it beneath his heavy black boot.

"You aren't the agents I was hoping for," Jacob said, glancing around skittishly but never lowering his gun from JJ's temple. JJ wasn't moving but she was struggling to keep calm.

"Who were you hoping for?" JJ asked. It was one of the first techniques they learned in hostage negotiation; start a conversation with your captor, build a rapport, make them see you as a person and not a bargaining chip, but Jacob wasn't taking the bait.

"Shut up," he spat, tightening his grip around JJ's neck, making her hands fly up to pull at his arm. Even from several feet away, Emily could smell the bitter stench of alcohol on his breath.

"Who were you hoping for?" Emily asked quickly, trying to divert his attention back to her.

"That black guy and the old fella," he said. "They shot my son, they're going to pay, I'll make sure of it." JJ abandoned her efforts to pull Jacob's arm away from her neck and instead she started inching her hand towards her belt and towards her gun.

"What makes you think it was them?" Prentiss asked, keeping Jacob's eyes on her.

"Sheriff told me. First I thought it was him that killed my boy, but he was pretty damn quick to tell me that it was your agents. Thought it would save his life, I suppose. But I killed him anyway."

Emily glanced at JJ. Her hand was just a few inches from her gun, she almost had it.

"If you put the gun down I'll take you to them," Prentiss said but Jacob ignored her. JJ was so close now, she closed her fingers around the butt of the gun but before she could pull it from its holster, Jacob began yanking her off the porch and groping around her waist. He pulled the gun from her belt and threw it in to the bushes. JJ tried to struggle away from him as he felt around again until he found her handcuffs but this time he threw them to Emily.

"Put them on."

"Don't, Emily," JJ choked.

"Shut up!" Jacob yelled. "Put the cuffs on or I'll shoot her in the face. Do it! Do it now!" Emily fumbled with the cuffs and fastened them around her wrists as quickly as she could. Jacob's large hand went roaming again, searching JJ's pockets for her cell phone. Once he found it, he put it in his own pocket and began dragging JJ towards his pickup truck.

"Get in the truck," he said to Emily. JJ shook her head but Emily didn't know what else to do.

"Where are we going?"

"I said get in." He was drunk and angry and completely unpredictable. He could pull the trigger for absolutely no reason and then JJ would be dead. And her baby. _Oh God, the baby_, she thought. Hotch would be destroyed. And Henry and Will and Garcia and Reid… If she could just get JJ out of danger, even if that meant putting herself at risk instead, it would at least be a small victory. So she pulled the door handle with her bound hands and stepped in to the truck. Jacob slammed the door shut and Emily realised the windows were completely blacked out, she had completely lost sight of Jacob and JJ. There was a cry of pain, a loud thump and then Jacob got in to the truck alone.

"What did you do to her?" Emily yelled, as Jacob started the engine. "What did you do? JJ!" She struggled to reach the door handle, "JJ!" She kept screaming her friend's name until Jacob pointed his gun at her.

"Shut up, just shut up!" he said. "I can't think straight with you whining! Now shut up and let me drive. Someone is going to pay for killing my boy." He backed out of the drive and began weaving down the dark streets with one hand on the steering wheel and the other awkwardly pointing the gun to her chest. The violent swerves of the car threw her back and forth across the back seat, unable to steady herself with her hands as they drove out of town and in to the desert, leaving JJ far behind.

Emily tried to remember every turn and memorised every possible landmark she could see out of the windshield and she realised how strange it was for a captor not to blindfold his hostage. Then she realised that it didn't matter if she saw where they were going, because Jacob Fox was planning to kill her.


	15. A Shot in the Dark

Hotch lay in bed, feeling irritable and useless. He felt as though he had spent this entire case either unconscious or in lying down. _Some leader_, he thought. He sat up straight and pushed himself to his feet, despite the burning pain in his chest as his stitches pulled at his skin. He walked slowly over to his go bag in the corner of the room feeling a little nauseated, and when he bent down to find a pair of socks, there was a sickening sensation in his chest and he could almost hear the sound of his broken ribs grinding together.

"Hotch?" Morgan had appeared in the room with a stack of paperwork from the Sheriff's office.

"I'm fine," Hotch said automatically, straightening up slowly and returning to the relative safety of his bed. "Is that the suspect list for the Sheriff's murder?"

"Yeah," said Morgan, eyeing him warily. "You sure you're okay? You look kinda pale."

"Fine," he said, gesturing for Morgan to hand him the papers. "That's a lot of suspects."

"Four pages of 'em," he agreed, leafing though the sheets.

"Any luck questioning Jacob Fox?" Hotch asked.

"JJ and Prentiss haven't brought him in yet," Morgan said. They'd been gone for almost an hour and Hotch was becoming concerned but before he could worry any more, Morgan's phone rang.

"Hey, speak of the devil," he said. "It's JJ." Hotch wondered why she had called Morgan and not him and he checked his phone for missed calls but there were none. He realised that he was no use in the investigation while he was stuck in hospital but he would have liked to have been involved. Morgan answered the call but remained silent for a long time, listening intently. In fact he didn't speak a word for the entire phone call but his expression spoke volumes. Something was very wrong. When he hung up at last, all he said was,

"Jacob Fox has Emily."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Where's JJ?"

"I don't know," he said, moving towards the door.

"What do you mean you don't know? He called from her cell phone," Hotch said, his voice and his temper rising. "Where the hell is she, Morgan?"

"I don't know, man! I would have asked but he said if I spoke he would kill Emily. He didn't even mention JJ, I don't think she's with them." He ran his hands over his head, pacing anxiously in the doorway. "I need to find her. I have to go."

"Get Garcia to trace JJ's cell," Hotch said. Morgan obeyed, and texted Garcia. Within thirty seconds, Jacob Fox's location was in his hand. When he looked up, Hotch was pulling on his shoes and grabbing a sweater.

"You aren't going anywhere, Hotch," Morgan said.

"We are a lot closer to Jacob Fox's house than anyone else. JJ might still be there. I can't afford to wait for the cops."

"You're going to kill yourself," Morgan said, but when he met Hotch's gaze he seemed to realise that there was no reasoning with him.

"Will you just help me?" he asked. He hated the sound of the words but he couldn't make it all the way down the stairs and out to the SUV by himself. Morgan grabbed two sets of car keys and helped Hotch out in to the main part of the ward, pausing only momentarily to avoid one of the nurses. They stepped in to the elevator and Morgan hammered the B button with his thumb for the entire journey down to the dark basement where their SUVs sat waiting. Hotch pulled open the driver's door of the closest vehicle, fighting back the waves of dizziness and nausea that kept threatening to submerge him. He closed his eyes and leaned on the car door, taking deep breaths and willing himself to keep going for JJ.

"Hotch?"

"Just go," he said, waving Morgan away. "Find Emily. Back-up won't be far behind."

Morgan got in to his own SUV and tore out of the basement parking lot, following the coordinates that Garcia had sent. JJ's cell phone was about four miles outside of town and hopefully so was Emily. Morgan could feel the rage growing inside him, something he hadn't felt for a long time. If Jacob Fox harmed Emily, he would kill him. There was no hesitancy, no doubt or uncertainty in his mind, only fear and anger. If anything happened to Emily, he would be lost, so the only option was to get her back, and nothing in the world was going to stop him.

* * *

><p>Prentiss sat in the back of the car for hours as Jacob drove further and further in to the desert. Jacob had abandoned JJ's phone twenty miles back meaning no one knew where they were. It could be several more hours before anyone came to find her, but hopefully someone would have found JJ by now. There was a gnawing anxiety in her stomach, not only because she was being held hostage but because she had no idea what had happened to JJ. Every time she thought about her, her anxiety grew dangerously close to utter panic.<p>

At long last, Jacob pulled over in a section of desert without a single identifiable landmark. He stepped out of the car, swiftly locking the doors behind him, leaving Emily bound and alone in the stifling heat.

For almost an hour now, Jacob had been wandering around outside the car in the dying afternoon light, finishing off a bottle of scotch that had been stashed in his glovebox, while Emily tried to form a coherent plan for escape. Once Jacob was sober she might be able to reason with him, get him to surrender, but while he remained drunk, none of her plans were without risk.

She shifted uncomfortably, her shirt sticking to her back in the warm car, half relieved that it would be dark soon, but she also realised that it would be even harder for someone to find her in the pitch black desert.

A second killer had been so unexpected that they had very little information on Jacob Fox except what they found out when they were raking through his son's past. Prentiss wished Reid were here, he would remember every minute detail but instead she had to settle for her own distinctly average memory. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the files they had read.

Jacob Fox was 67 years old, he had lived in his house on West Cedro Drive for twenty-five years. His wife, Terri, had fallen down the stairs and broken her neck twenty years ago. It was ruled an accident despite some local suspicion that she had been pushed. Her death had been a stressor for Jacob and after that he started hitting his son, Robert. Maybe due to the guilt of accidentally killing his wife. And maybe Prentiss could use that to get under his skin.

Jacob unlocked the car and climbed back in to the driver's seat and she caught sight of JJ's gun stuffed in to the waistband of his worn jeans, while his own gun was held tightly in his hand, pointing in the region of Emily's shoulder.

"Can you just put the gun down?" she asked.

"I'm not stupid."

_That remains to be seen,_ she thought.

"Who do you think will get here first?" he asked, as easily as if he was asking her who might win the football. "Agent Morgan? Or maybe some of those useless cops from the Sheriff's Department. I suppose it doesn't really matter, I'll just hold you hostage until I get what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"To kill the bastards that killed my son."

"I won't let that happen."

"You won't have much of a choice, sweetheart." His speech was less slurred now and he was considerably more articulate than she had expected, nothing like the stereotype she had categorised him in. This was her chance to reason with him.

"They won't sacrifice two FBI agents to get me back. It's all about minimum loss," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "In fact, once they find JJ, they'll know that you are planning to kill Morgan and Rossi and they won't let them anywhere near this truck." Jacob looked hesitant for a second, the only change in his angry and smug demeanour for several hours.

"What makes you think that little blonde agent is still alive?"

"Because I don't think you would hurt a woman," she said. "Not on purpose." It was a wild stab in the dark, but when the colour drained from Jacob's face, she knew she had found his weak spot.

"Not on purpose," he echoed.

"You pushed your wife down the stairs," she said and she held his gaze firmly for a few moments until he finally looked away.

"I didn't mean to," he said quietly, staring down at his knees. He shook his head, he began to fidget and look around wildly, growing more and more agitated. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to!" He threw the car door open and stumbled out. Prentiss slipped though the space between the front seats and out the door to find Jacob doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath and muttering to himself.

"What happened to you, Jacob?" she asked. "How did you end up like this?"

"How the hell do you think?" he said between short, rasping breaths. "I started drinking and I didn't stop."

"Because of what you did to Terri."

"I wanted to forget."

"But instead you made Robert suffer. He lost his mother and then he lost his father too."

"He just gave up when she died. He stopped trying in school. He started acting out. It made me so angry. He just lost all his motivation."

"Maybe you beat it out of him," she said. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to push Jacob so far, but if she didn't get him to break down, there was still a chance he would decide to kill her.

"I hated myself for what I did to him," he said, his fist clenched so tightly over his own gun that his knuckles were almost entirely white.

"But you kept doing it for eight years."

"I didn't mean for it to go on for so long!" he said, his voice rising. "It's a vicious cycle. I couldn't stop."

"Eight years, Jacob." He covered his face with his hands and let out a loud, tormented yell. While his eyes were covered, Prentiss lunged forward and grabbed JJ's gun from his waistband, pointing it at Jacob's chest.

"Drop your gun," she said.

"I didn't mean for any of this," he moaned, seemingly unconcerned that she had a weapon.

"Put the gun down, Jacob." He slid down the side of the car and landed with a soft thud on the ground where he put his head back in to his hands and started sobbing uncontrollably.

_Great_, Prentiss thought, rolling her eyes. She kept her gun on him but left him to his grief for a short while. There was very little she could do until back-up arrived anyway, her set of keys for the cuffs were lost somewhere in the undergrowth of Jacob's garden.

"The gun, Jacob," she said again. His convulsive crying changed just then, and she realised that he had started to laugh. He dropped the gun on the ground.

"It's not even real," he said. Prentiss dipped down and picked it up, finding it much lighter than she had anticipated. It was a decent replica of a Beretta but it was entirely made of plastic. The trigger didn't even move. "It's just for show. Never fired a gun in my life," he said.

"Could have fooled me," Prentiss muttered, dropping the gun back down beside him. She leaned against the hood of the truck, feeling slightly more relaxed now she knew Jacob wasn't armed.

"You didn't kill JJ did you?" she asked. He shook his head and she felt relief wash over her. Now she could concentrate on getting herself out of this mess and getting Jacob to turn himself in.

"Just stuck her in the basement," he muttered. "God, what is wrong with me?"

"Why did you kill the Sheriff?" she asked. Jacob ran his hands tightly through his short hair.

"I can't believe I did that... I... I don't understand."

"Why?" she repeated, more out of curiosity than anything else. Now that he wasn't waving a gun in her face, she found herself feeling a little twinge of pity for him. He had killed the Sheriff, he had kidnapped her and hurt JJ and he wanted Morgan and Rossi dead but for all of his terrible actions, he was still nothing more than a tormented man, being forced to face his demons and hating himself more and more every second because of it.

"He was my best friend," he whispered. 'We grew up together, We were inseparable. Even when he was moving up the career ladder and I was still a drunken mess, he never left me behind." Jacob tipped his head back and looked up at the darkening sky and the few silver stars that were beginning to emerge. "When I heard that Robert was dead, I thought he had killed him," he continued. "And I was so drunk, I didn't listen to reason. And now he's dead. My best friend."

"You need help, Jacob," she said. He just nodded. For a long time, he sat on the ground, slowly sobering up and occasionally descending in to fits of tears. Prentiss wondered how long it would be before back-up arrived. She couldn't drive handcuffed and despite his repentance, she still wouldn't trust Jacob behind the wheel. She made a mental note to start carrying a spare set of handcuff keys.

Once night had really fallen, Prentiss stepped over Jacob's hunched frame and clicked on the headlights of the truck so that at wedge of the desert was illuminated with yellow light. She resumed her position leaning against the hood and gazed up at the clear, navy sky, which was now littered with bright stars.

"The cops will be here soon," she reminded him, and this time he didn't threaten to hold her hostage or kill her. _We're making progress,_ she thought. "Are you going to turn yourself in?"

"Yes," he croaked. Several minutes passed where neither of them spoke and Prentiss grew a little bored. She began to wonder if she really could drive with her hands cuffed, but that would leave her unarmed and Jacob could still do something crazy like lunge for the steering wheel or strangle her while she drove, so she resigned herself to the fact that they were stuck there until they were rescued. It wasn't worth the risk.

The only thing to break the silence was an occasional sniff or groan from Jacob, who was now completely sober for the first time in God knows how long, and seemed to be struggling to come to terms with everything he had done. He remained crouched on the ground and Emily kept stargazing, admiring the ethereal swirls of light above her. At one point, she thought she heard the crunch of tires on the dirt but when she paused and listened harder, she was met by nothing but silence.

"I believe you, by the way," she said after a while, not bothering to take her eyes off the sky.

"About what?"

"That you didn't mean to kill your wife." Behind her, she heard him get to his feet.

"Thanks," he said. "That means a lot." There was a movement just in front of her and she was both surprised and relieved to see Morgan approaching swiftly out of the darkness. But he didn't even look at her, he just raised his arm, pointed his gun at Jacob and shot him between the eyes. Emily turned around just in time to see the old man hit the ground, an expression of complete shock still on his bloodied face. She looked back at Morgan who was visibly shaking, uncontrollable rage in his dark eyes. He was barely recognisable as the man she knew.

"Morgan," she breathed. "What have you done?"


	16. Found

'Morgan," she breathed. "What have you done?"

"He had a gun," Morgan said, standing beside her and looking both angry and confused at her reaction.

"So did I but there was a reason I hadn't shot him!"

"He was going to kill you!" Morgan said.

"He was going to turn himself in!"

"Why the hell are you defending him? I just saved your life!"

"It wasn't a justified shot, Morgan, you could lose your job!"

"Are you serious?" he yelled, as the faint sound of sirens began to fill the cold air. "It was a clean shot!"

"The gun wasn't even real, he showed it to me!" she said, her temper rising too, more out of worry for the consequences of Morgan's recklessness. Morgan looked down at the fake Beretta which was still lying on the ground beside Jacob. As they watched, the pool of blood leaking from the holes in Jacob's head crept further across the sand. Morgan gave short, disbelieving laugh and looked at Emily with more anger and distrust than she had ever seen. Instead of yelling anymore, his voice became quite quiet.

"Did he also show you the 9 millimetre revolver he was hiding?"

"The… what?" Emily said, looking back down at Jacob's body. Following Morgan's gaze, she saw another smaller gun half concealed under the truck where it had fallen from Jacob's grasp. She stooped down to pick it up clicked open the barrel. Six tarnished gold bullets stared back at her.

"That would be the 9 millimetre revolver he was pointing at the back of your head when I arrived," Morgan said, his voice barely more than a growl. "So yeah, it was a justified shot. And yeah, I just saved your damn life." An SUV and three cop cars skidded to a halt beside them just then, sirens blaring, but she barely heard them. She didn't know what to say. Jacob had been playing her the entire time and she had fallen for it.

"He was going to kill me," she whispered, looking from the bullets to Jacob and back again.

"Yeah," Morgan said. He turned and began to walk away from her to talk to Rossi and Reid who had just climbed out of the SUV.

"Morgan," she started.

"Forget it," he said shortly.

"Morgan, please, I didn't know!"

"But you assumed the worst! You assumed that I was the one in the wrong and not the Goddamned murderer standing behind you."

"I thought he was going to come quietly."

"You should have trusted me!"

"I did," she said, feeling desperate now. "I do. I would trust you with my life!"

"Just forget it," he said again and strode away from her. She had believed Jacob Fox, a cold-blooded killer over her own friend. She had so arrogantly believed that she had managed to talk Jacob down, that she had made him see the error of his ways, when really he had been playing her for a fool the entire time. What else had he lied about?

"Is JJ okay?" she asked, hurrying over to Rossi and Reid.

"We don't know yet," Reid.

"Are you okay?" asked Rossi.

_No_, she thought. I_ have possibly just made the biggest error in judgement of my career, I was nearly shot in the head by an Unsub that I was tricked in to pitying, and I might have just destroyed my relationship with one of the most important people in my life._

"I'm fine," she said, glancing over to Morgan who was already a little way in the distance, barely visible in the dark, getting back in to his own SUV. "Can you get these damn things off me?" She held up her handcuffed wrists and let Rossi free her.

"Hey," Rossi said, tugging her arm to make her look at him and she reluctantly met his gaze. "He'll come around."

"I don't know if he will," she said. "I've really messed up." Rossi just pulled her in to a hug. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest and realised how worried he must have been for her. It wasn't until she felt safe that she realised how scared she was and how close to death she had been for the second time in only a few days. And although she appreciated the comfort of her friend, she couldn't help wishing it was Derek's arms around her.

* * *

><p>Hotch stumbled out of the SUV and looked around Jacob Fox's front yard. The house appeared deserted, in fact the entire street did. He had pulled his arm from its sling in frustration as he drove and it was beginning to ache as the pain meds wore off, but that was the least of his concerns. He grabbed his gun from his waistband and began to creep across the uneven gravel.<p>

"JJ?" He inched forward, gun raised, avoiding the broken bottles and furniture that covered the ground. He made is way round to the other side of the house, with his back to the wall, constantly looking for any signs of JJ when he came across the remnants of a wooden hatch that led down to the basement, splintered across the ground and covered in blood. Whose blood? He looked down in to the dim stairway that disappeared into darkness, wondering if JJ was down there. Injured. Or dead. His head began to pound and he could feel the blood pulsing in his wrists and his hands tingled as he struggled to contain his panic. Just then, there was a noise from the back yard, like the sound of a footstep on gravel.

He pressed himself against the wall again, inching towards the corner of the house. There was absolute silence now, so quiet that his own racing pulse was deafening. He paused for a second, listening intently for another noise. There was someone there, possibly just a few feet away from him, waiting to attack him... He whipped around the corner to find a figure standing directly in front of him, their gun raised at chest height, pointing straight at his heart.

"Hotch?"

"JJ!" he dropped his gun almost immediately and pulled her tightly in to his arms. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you bleeding?" he asked.

"Just my arm," she said. "He locked me in the basement. I didn't know if anyone would be coming for me so I broke the hatch open but I caught my arm on a piece of wood."

"Did Jacob hurt you?"

"Not really. He just used me to get Emily in to his car. Do you know where she is? What's happened to her?"

"Morgan's gone after her, and Rossi and Reid won't be far behind. They'll find her," he said. Now that his blind panic had subsided, he tried to contain the mess of emotions that were running through his mind. Relief, anger, happiness, guilt, a burning desire for revenge, but as usual, none of them showed on his face. He could feel the blood from JJ's arm soaking in to the back of his shirt, but he felt different, warmer blood on his side. When he looked down he saw that his white t-shirt was turning gradually red from the surgical incision on his abdomen. JJ looked down to see it too, and her eyes widened with worry.

"Aaron," she started.

"I'm fine," Hotch reassured her but he was secretly relieved to hear the high-pitched sirens of the emergency services echoing over the rooftops.

They stood in each other's arms, both as shaken by the afternoon's events as the other. By the time three squad cars and two ambulances had arrived, Hotch was feeling faint and nauseated.

"You're going to kill yourself one day," JJ said, watching the cavalry sweep the house. Hotch didn't argue. "There are four paramedics and six cops here," she said. "Why did you need to put yourself in danger?"

"There wasn't time to wait for them," he said. "I couldn't just leave you."

"I appreciate the sentiment," she said, guiding him to the front of the house, "but I don't want our daughter to grow up without a father. So if you could try to be a little less heroic that would be great." The paramedics herded Hotch in to the back of the ambulance and onto a gurney and JJ hopped in beside him.

"I needed to know you were alright," he said, as the ambulance began to drive off, sirens blaring, and a medic began to prod at him with needles full of painkillers while another tended to JJ's bleeding arm. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Here's hoping you never have to find out," she said.

* * *

><p>Emily sat down beside JJ outside the relatives' room, feeling completely sick of the sight of this hospital and it's off-white walls, dim lights and harassed looking staff. The sooner they could go back to Quantico the better. This entire town had brought them nothing but misery.<p>

"Is Hotch okay?" she asked.

"Fine," JJ said. "He's just out of surgery now. He did some more damage coming to find me so they had to remove his spleen. He's okay though."

"Good."

"What about Morgan?"

"He's angry. I don't really want to talk about it."

JJ seemed like she was about to speak when a familiar figure walked past them as Morgan strode across the ward and in to Hotch's room without so much as a sideways glance at Emily.

"Okay... that was a little rude," JJ said.

"I told you he was mad."

"You need to talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

"Who said he had a choice in the matter?"

Emily appreciated JJ's straight-forward attitude. She wasn't used to wallowing in self-pity after and argument, but Morgan elicited feelings within her that she had trained herself not to feel. Emotions weren't her strong suit, neither were apologies but JJ's no-nonsense strategy inspired her to swallow her pride and confront Morgan head on, whether he was angry or not. So she got to her feet and waited by the door for Morgan to reemerge, feeling nervous and guilty in equal measures. When he finally opened the door again, he took one look at her and turned to leave. Her anxiety immediately vanished and was replaced by complete annoyance.

"Hey, are you going to talk to me or what?"

"Not now, Emily."

"Yes now. You're going to hear me out."

"Fine." She pulled him in to a side room where he stood, arms folded, looking sullen, staring around at the shelves of medical supplies. She wanted to tell him to stop acting like a petulant child but hurling insults probably wasn't the best course of action when he was barely speaking to her at all.

"Look, I've said it before but I need you to know that I am sorry. I made a huge mistake in trusting Jacob." He didn't say anything so she continued. "I shouldn't have assumed that you had killed him for no reason but as far as I was concerned he was unarmed and crying like a little girl."

"I thought you would have trusted me," he said.

"You know I do, but I was completely caught off guard. And the way you were looking at Jacob… I didn't know what to think. You were so angry…"

"Because I thought I was going to lose you!" he said, his voice rising. "I was terrified, Emily! I didn't know what I was going to find when I caught up with you." Her feelings of guilt intensified although she didn't think that was Morgan's intention. She hadn't even really considered how scared he must have been. She knew he cared about her, but it was only now, as he let his guard down that she realised exactly how much.

"I know," she said after a moment. "I can't believe I was so stupid." Morgan looked at her for a moment and sighed.

"You're starting to sound like Hotch," he said with a resigned shake of his head. She studied his face, trying to assess his mood and after a few seconds a faint smile appeared on his lips. She took that as her cue that she was forgiven and put her arms around his neck, glad at last to have the comfort of her best friend. He squeezed her tight and kissed the side of her head.

"If anything ever happens to you - " he said.

"Nothing will happen to me."

"It would kill me."

"Nothing will happen to me," she repeated, feeling him hold her tighter as though he was afraid she was going to slip from his grasp and he would lose her forever.

"You make sure of it," he said.

* * *

><p>For the second time, they all crammed into Hotch's small hospital room with blankets and pillows much to the annoyance of the nurses.<p>

"I'm sorry," one nurse said. "You can't all stay here, it's immediate family only."

"We are family," Reid said and the nurse sighed.

"That isn't what I meant. You aren't really allowed to sleep in here," she pressed.

"We don't mind," said Morgan.

"Yes, but - "

"I'd prefer if they stayed," Hotch said. The nurse's shoulders dropped as she visibly gave up.

"Fine. But no more adventures," she said, looking directly at Hotch. "Your last trip cost you your spleen. Next time you won't be so lucky."

Hotch stifled an almost childish smile as she left, feeling like he was back in school, driving his teacher to distraction with the help of his friends. He was about to say how glad he was that the case was finally over, but he held his tongue, not wanting to tempt fate. He wouldn't be surprised if a third or fourth Unsub popped up just to torture them a little more. If he'd learned one thing since joining the BAU it was that things could always get that little bit worse, but in the meantime they ordered pizza and spent the day comparing and admiring each other's battle wounds, playing cards and discussing their best and worst cases.

Morgan took great pleasure in watching Prentiss struggle with her pizza, unable to open her mouth wide enough to fit a whole slice in because of the dozen stitches running parallel to her cheekbone. For the first time in a long time, looking around at his colleagues, his friends, and the woman he loved, Hotch was happy, and if another sociopathic relative of the Fox's wanted to try and kill them, then so be it, but until then he was going to enjoy every minute.

Just after eleven o'clock that night, Deputy Commander Watts came to visit them. He was as warm and polite as ever but a little part of the enthusiastic officer they had met only a few days ago was gone and the Sheriff's death seemed to weigh heavily on his young shoulders.

"You guys think you'll come back to Green Valley sometime?" he asked.

"Nope," Morgan said. "No offence but I don't even think I want to come back to Arizona. Ever."

"I don't blame you," he said. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, tied up the last few loose ends of the case and then he said goodbye. "I forgot to mention," he said, just before he left, "Holmes is the new Sheriff, for now."

"I thought he quit," said Hotch, shuffling up the bed and trying to get in to a more comfortable position.

"Sheriff Falconer didn't accept his resignation, turns out he actually put his name forward for Chief Deputy instead, which technically makes Holmes the closest thing we've got to a Sheriff at the moment. So he's filling in as Interim Sheriff for now, and he'll be running for the position when the elections start. I'm sure it didn't look like it to you, but they were good friends, the Sheriff and him. Falconer would never have let him abandon his career."

"How's he taking it?" Hotch asked. "The Sheriff's death I mean."

"Not great," Watts admitted. "The last thing Holmes ever told him was that he was to blame for all those murders. I don't know if he'll ever forgive himself for that."

"And you?" asked Emily.

"I'll be okay," he said, putting on a convincing smile. "I've worked beside Sheriff Falconer for almost two decades, until he went off to Tucson. He's the reason I'm Deputy Commander now. He's the reason I was partnered with Holmes. I owe him a lot, it just… it feels strange that I'll never be able to repay him." No one spoke, they all knew what Watts was feeling, they had all felt it with painful clarity at some point in their careers, and they all knew that there was nothing they could say. "Hey, speak of the devil," Watts said, a bright smile crossing his face as the new Interim Sheriff entered the room.

"I just wanted to thank you," Holmes said, addressing the BAU members, his voice as flat as usual, but his face betraying his gratitude. "I've been less than professional these past few days and I don't imagine I made your job easier."

"If anyone could have talked Robert Fox down it was you," Hotch said. "I'm just sorry it ended the way it did."

"So am I," he said. "Anyway, if you ever need anything, you know where we are. We owe you a lot." They both turned to the door.

"Oh I almost forgot," Watts added, as he stopped on the threshold for a second time, "I'll be putting myself up for Chief Deputy. I don't think I'll get it, but it's worth a try."

"Good luck," Rossi said. "You'll do great."

"Sheriff Holmes and Deputy Watson," Prentiss said. "It has a nice ring to it."

"It's Watts," said Holmes with a small smile. Prentiss laughed as the two officers left the room, Holmes's hand resting on his partner's back as he let him walk ahead of him through the narrow doorway.

"So," Rossi said, picking up the last slice of pepperoni, "in the space of a week, we've taken out two Unsubs, almost died, faked Hotch's death and only lost two moderately important body parts in the process. Strauss will be so proud."

"Speaking of Strauss," Hotch said, "I spoke to her earlier. She wants to see us all when we get back to Quantico." No one seemed surprised but Garcia frowned and started fidgeting with her bracelets.

"Including me?" she asked.

"No. She wants you back at work at 8am on Monday."

"I thought I was suspended!" she said, her voice rising to a surprised squeak.

"Not anymore. The department is under a huge amount of scrutiny after this week's events and the fact that you pissed off Strauss is the least of her worries right now. And besides, I've taken full responsibility for everything that went wrong on this case." Everyone simultaneously voiced their unhappiness at this.

"You shouldn't have to do that," Reid said.

"What happened with Jacob Fox was my mistake," Emily said. "Strauss should know that."

"We were all part of this case, Hotch," Morgan said. "I'll take responsibility for my share of mistakes."

"So will I," Rossi said.

"No," Hotch said. "It's so much easier if I say everything was my fault. It minimises paperwork, and it'll make this whole mess go away much faster without any of you having to be pulled in to court."

They continued to argue with him for another few minutes before they all realised that there was nothing they could say to change his mind.

"And anyway, I could use some time off, maybe a suspension is exactly what I need," he said lightly but everyone continued to frown at him.

"Hey, what's this?" Emily asked suddenly, picking up a little piece of paper on the table by Hotch's bed.

"Remember the manager from the Green Valley Inn? She gave me her phone number," Hotch said.

"Nice," Morgan said.

"You going to call her?" Emily asked, shooting JJ a mischievous grin.

"You know what," Hotch said, with mock deliberation, "I think I'll pass. Why don't you call her, Morgan?"

Morgan laughed. "Nah, man. I think I'm good," he said and Hotch saw him glance at Emily who was smiling warmly back at him.

"Reid?"

"Um, no, I mean, statistically speaking, if she was interested in Hotch I probably wouldn't be her type, really," he said, before adding, "I'm sure she'd be interested in Rossi though."

"Looks like she's all yours, Dave," Hotch said, handing Rossi the number.

"Great," he said, only half-seriously but nevertheless slipping the piece of paper in to his shirt pocket. "Here comes wife number four."


	17. Epilogue

**A/N Well this is it, once again, the final chapter. I really hope you enjoyed this updated fic, and drop me a review when you're done and let me know what you thought! Thank you for all your support. C x**

* * *

><p>Two weeks later Hotch was lying in bed and JJ was slumped over his legs, reading a book with her head almost hanging over the edge of the bed.<p>

Across the hall, Henry and Jack were fast asleep in their new bunk beds, but when Hotch had last gone to check on them, Henry had abandoned his dinosaur themed bed and clambered up in to the train themed one above, curling up and falling asleep beside his new best friend. The boys had made his time off work more than bearable, in fact, he was a little reluctant to go back to his office quite so soon. Strauss had been lenient with him, she had only suspended him for a fortnight for faking his own death; the rest of his misdemeanours on their trip had been forgiven. Apparently almost dying in a massive explosion was punishment enough.

"How about Anna?" JJ asked, bringing Hotch's attention back to his own book of baby names.

"That would always remind me of Anna Begley," Hotch said.

"Megan?" she suggested.

"Reminds me of Megan Kane."

"That call-girl who died on the balcony with you?"

"Yeah." There was silence for a few minutes except for the occasional flip of a page.

"Jane?" JJ suggested.

"Makes me think of Jane Gould. Remember her?"

"She was the one who kept that girl Molly hostage and crushed her feet with a hammer, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we can probably discount Molly as a name too."

"Probably."

"Claire?"

"Remember Claire Bates? The woman who abducted those little boys?" Hotch said. JJ gave a long sigh.

"This is never going to work," she said. "We've been at this for nearly four hours, Aaron. We will never be able to find a name that doesn't make us think of an Unsub. There are just too many of them." Hotch was about to agree with her she rolled up her sleeves, and a memory from weeks before came to the front of his mind. She was wearing his brown sweater, the one he had given her in the hotel in Green Valley, the one that had carried so many bad memories until JJ had put it on. Now it reminded him of only her, of her pale green pyjamas, the vanilla smell of her hair, her smile.

"I like Anna," Hotch said suddenly.

"What about that Unsub?"

"Whatever we name her will only remind me of you. You're the best thing that could ever have happened to me and that beats any memories of Unsubs." JJ smiled and shifted up to lie beside Hotch.

"Well, it only took us four hours to think of one possible first name, what about middle names?"

"Well Garcia is under the impression that her middle name is going to be Penelope," Hotch said.

"Emily was dropping hints as well," JJ said.

"That's settled then," Hotch said, reaching out to stroke the baby bump. "Anna Penelope Emily Jareau-Hotchner."

"It just rolls off the tongue doesn't it?" JJ said with a wry smile. She put the book down on the bedside table and climbed under the covers before clicking off the light. Hotch put his arm around her and she curled up with her head on his chest. They were silent for a moment and Hotch wondered if JJ had already fallen asleep, he peered down at her, only just visible in the moonlight that was filtering through a gap in the curtains.

"JJ?"

"Mmm?"

"Speaking of names…"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about Hotchner?"

"It's a good name," she said. "I like it." He paused for a moment before he said,

"Do you like it enough to make it your last name?" He felt her smile against his chest before she propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him.

"I do."


End file.
